#he always says we can disagree with him 'but we have to have proof' like my proof is human fuckin rights for all??

[bisaster-energy]

just got home and because my parents decided that their problems are my problems im living in actual hell

#my mom was supposed to take us to our dentist appointments but she didn't give a shit #she didn't even ask if she can get those times off and just acted like ''oh i have to go in I'll look bad if i take time off randomly 🥴'' #she obviously just didn't wanna be responsible #so my dad is mad naturally so #now i have to go to my sister's dentist appointment even tho mine isn't til tomorrow #while my period is kicking my fuckin ass #and im probably gonna have to listen to his sexist drivel and agree with it on the way #he always says we can disagree with him 'but we have to have proof' like my proof is human fuckin rights for all?? #if u can't understand that how can i even explain how ur wrong cos the whole thing wrong with ur pov #is that u dont think everyone deserves the same fuckin rights whether they be women or queers or some other group he hates #ur a bigot how tf do u convince a bigot they're wrong u literally cannot cos their 'evidence' is based in prejudice #so no matter what i say IM always the biased one. not him. #anyway i hate my parents what the fuck is wrong with them

[lexirosewrites]

Wealthy omega Steve going on an arranged date each week to the same restaurant because his parents want him to find a mate.

Alpha Eddie who busks in the parking lot for tips and always offers him a cigarette and a shoulder to cry on after it doesn’t work out.

It takes them a while.

“Another one? That’s the third date this week, pretty boy. You going for a record or something?” Eddie asks, already holding his half-finished cigarette out for Steve to take.

He does. It’s his only reward for doing all of this.

Well, that and Eddie.

Eddie makes this easier.

Steve takes a long draw from it, craving the burn of nicotine more than he cares to admit to himself.

He craves Eddie’s company too, but that’s between him and the cigarette.

“Yeah, my parents are working overtime it seems. They’re bound and determined to have me mated off before spring.”

Steve laughs.

Eddie doesn’t.

“They sound awful.”

They are. Their insistence on old-fashioned values and treating their omega son like a burden to be rid of is proof enough.

“They mean well,” he says. “I think.”

Eddie hums thoughtfully. It’s clear that he disagrees.

Steve passes the cigarette back.

The alpha snubs it out on the sidewalk they’re sitting on instead.

“How long are you gonna keep doing this for?”

“Well, as long as it takes to find someone who’s interested, I guess. There’s not an exact timeline or any—”

Eddie startles Steve when he cuts him off with a growl.

He doesn’t look mad, but his forehead creases, deep frown, and sour scent speaks of irritation.

“Not what I meant.”

Oh.

“I don’t know, Eddie. They’re my parents… and it’s not like I’ve got anyone else knocking down my door.”

Even his dates aren’t interested once they’ve met him in person.

Steve always looks good on paper. He’s attractive and from an upstanding family, a decent investment at first glance.

But then he opens his mouth. That’s where their interest always ends.

Sometime between shaking hands and dessert, their eyes get bored and they start checking their watch more. They don’t bother to hide that they’re running out the clock, eager to be away from Steve.

He thought it would hurt less after a while, but it doesn’t.

“How many times are we gonna do this, Stevie?“

And now even Eddie is bored with him. It makes sense. They’ve been meeting up for months and Steve isn’t worth much for stimulating conversation.

It had to end eventually.

“I’m sorry. I— I didn’t realize I was bothering you. I can leave you to your gigging, man. Let me just—”

Steve reaches for his wallet, pulling out a thick wad of bills to shove in Eddie’s guitar case as an apology for taking up his precious time.

Compensation for the therapy.

“Hey, no— that’s not what I meant, baby. I just— ugh, why is this so hard to say?” Eddie groans, grabbing at his own hair in frustration.

Steve hasn’t the faintest idea what’s ailing Eddie. The guy is normally chill 100% of the time. It’s why Steve goes to him for comfort. He’s hard to shake.

“Sorry?” he tries.

“No, I’m sorry! I just can’t sit here for yet another evening and pretend like there are more fish in the sea for you or whatever,” Eddie explains frantically, his eyes begging Steve to understand.

Ouch. Okay. Point made.

Steve is unlovable, got it.

He stands, brushing off his slacks so his shaking hands aren’t as noticeable.

Keep cool. Breathe.

“Understood. I won’t bother you anymore then. I can park across the street next time too. Good luck with everything, Eddie. I’m sure your band will get signed soon, you’re a talented musician.”

Eddie shoots to his feet, almost tripping over his own lanky limbs in the process.

He grabs the sleeve of Steve’s dress shirt, stopping him from leaving.

“Don’t go on anymore dates.”

Jesus.

“Yeah, I got it the first time, thanks. I’m undesirable. Can you stop repeating it?”

Eddie looks like he’s been slapped, but he doesn’t say anything back. The bluntness must have caught him off guard.

Steve sighs, attempting to pull free from the alpha’s grip.

He almost manages it.

But then Eddie snaps back to reality and his eyes go wide for just a split moment before he kisses Steve right on the lips.

It’s unexpected to say the least.

It’s also probably the best kiss of his entire life. Too bad it’s from someone who just told him to quit dating because nobody will ever want to court him.

They finally break apart and Steve sways.

“Eddie… what in the actual hell are you—?”

“I love you! I love you— I’ve been in love with you for months, but you insist on going on all these dates with alphas who have no taste and they keep breaking your heart and leaving me to pick up the pieces, but I don’t want to keep handing them back. I want to keep you, Steve. I want to be the only alpha you go on dates with.”

Steve stops trying to run away.

Instead, he yanks at the collar of Eddie’s shirt, tugging him into another, longer kiss.

This is love, huh? Makes sense.

His lips are warm and so is his heart. Patched up once more and encased in a body other than his own

No more arranged dates.

“That was a ‘yes,’ in case it didn’t translate.”

Eddie’s face is flushed and his happy smile is infectious.

“I don’t have the kind of money your usual dates have, but I had this really cute guy way overtip me earlier. Can I buy you dinner, pretty boy?”

It’s the first of many.

#slick Sunday #steddie #steddie omegaverse #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #steddie ficlet #omegaverse #a/b/o

[aurae-rori]

DR RATIO ANALYSIS

SPOILERS FOR 2.1 CONTENT!

Now, you might be saying - "Aurae, Oh No! and Are You Satisfied? are much too basic songs to analyze Dr. Ratio to! Just because he's a scholar doesn't mean that he has academic trauma!" WRONG! Before we start, I have been researching psychology for approximately six years and I plan to go into it professionally. HOWEVER, that said, I am NOT a professional (YET. One day I will be. Yay for Aurae!) so understand that everything I come to conclusions about has been analyzed with some personal judgement, personal interpretations, and this is just what I have concluded with the info that I have deconstructed from his brain. If you disagree, that's fine!

I will be pulling from my own experiences with being a "golden" and "gifted" child, as well as the experiences I've had speaking to other people who were those. I will also be pulling from my experiences of researching and seeing how people with superiority complexes work, as well as diving into how those work (from what I've seen, as well as how they conceal a lack of self-esteem).

OKAY, NOW THAT THAT LONG AHH DISCLAIMER IS OVER, ALLOW ME TO WORK MY PSYCH ENJOYER MAGIC! Let's deconstruct Dr. Ratio like a lego toy.

Let's start off with how Dr. Ratio presents himself. When you first meet him, he seems like a haughty, arrogant asshole. He likes to PRESENT himself as a stoic, superior scholar who is purely in it to win it, and I got total "*stares down at your tiny body and laughs at how you lack knowledge*" vibes at the very start, due to how he goes around calling people idiots all the time. However, he DOES lose the idgaf war, and we can very quickly see that he does care for other people, even if in his own, strange way. Dr Ratio presentation: An asshole. The reality?

His entire character is based around the idea of helping the masses. He wishes to spread knowledge through the cosmos and give people who didn't have access to it, access. He's a harsh teacher, and calling people 'idiots' is NOT the way to motivate them, but he's doing his best™.

Actually, no, I'm going to go full psych into this. Okay, so here starts the Dr. Ratio and my FATHER COMPARISONS. My father is a professor and he is often called a harsh grader by his students. However, I've spoken to him multiple times because I was curious - why is he so harsh and diligent with his grading system? The answer is - he wants them to actually learn. When he's grading, he gives them harsh marks because he wants them to know exactly where they messed up, and he's always willing to stay after hours to help students understand where they can't. My father also is an enjoyer of knowledge, and for as long as I've remembered, he has prioritized teaching me how to think critically. He wants me to be able to think for myself - and I think that's what Dr. Ratio wants, too. He wants for his students to be able to fully comprehend and absorb the information that he teaches, and although his methods are harsh, he genuinely wants to help. My father's like this too - he hates students that waste his time or aren't here because their hearts are in it. Dr. Ratio hates people who aren't taking their education seriously because knowledge is important. Knowledge is a tool, and to disregard it completely is lowkey kind of insulting - especially when there are people who weren't privileged enough to actually get it, so this isn't something that you should take for granted. Dr. Ratio despises people who take knowledge for granted.

Also, I disagree with the claims that say that Dr. Ratio hates the genius society. He shows open respect for them in his voice lines. Just check them if you need proof. Also, I'll delve into the idea of Aeons and recognition later.

Now that we’ve established that Dr. Ratio kins my dad, let’s let's tackle the 'stoic' allegations. He is LOSING the idgaf war. Like, really badly. He has a temper of a thousand suns and snaps at people frequently, despite his 'impassive' face, his tone holds a LOT of emotion. He seems to feel very deeply and has a shit ton of empathy for others - why else would he be dedicating his entire career to helping others? Of course, he doesn't express this in 'typical' ways of being openly kind - but it doesn't mean that he doesn't care for other people. In fact, he seems to be pretty good at putting himself in the shoes of others and understanding them - expressed in the 2.1 quest where he tells Aventurine to tell him if he can't hold on any longer. Also, he loses the IDGAF war because he is actively trying to help people who want to learn and trying to spread logic and knowledge across the cosmos to those who didn't have it before. Would a man who didn't GAF do that? No!

Now that we've covered his view on knowledge and the way that he presents himself, let's turn to the way that he SEES himself. Now, this is where we get into the nitty gritty of gifted child trauma & academic trauma as well as crippling expectations. It's literally explicitly said in his character stories that he sees himself as mediocre, and it's canon that he doesn't have a good view of himself. His self-esteem is down in the fucking trenches along with my sanity as I write this analysis. The reality is - being called a genius your whole life doesn't really make you feel better about yourself. I'd know. I was. In fact, it makes you feel fucking worse when you can't live up to an expectation. We all fail in life. It's part of being human. But when you're held to such high standards - idolized for your knowledge and the way that you're 'gifted' - the crash comes really fucking hard. Failure is inevitable, and when people who are held on that pedestal experience it, they take it really bad.

The reality is that nobody - not even geniuses - are perfect, but you grow up believing that you are. Then, when you fail for the first time, it all comes tumbling down. The first time I came home with a bad grade was one of the most humiliating moments of my life. I hadn't studied because I was arrogant and I thought that I was smart enough to pass without putting any extra effort into it - because I was a 'gifted' child, right? I should've been able to do it without studying like the other kids. And that's the thing with gifted children – you grow reliant on that title. You cling onto it for dear life for motivation, as well as self-perception. Little by little, the person you are falls apart as you slave away to the perception other people have of you. I think basically every gifted child that I've ever spoken to is a victim of this – and of course, you can heal from this mindset - but it's a hard one to shake.

Ratio's way of presenting himself as being a 'genius' and 'arrogant' also seems to contradict the way that he calls himself 'mundane' at the same time. However, these are two mindsets that can coexist. One part of you believes that you are a genius and that you are perfect, while the other part is crumbling and calling yourself good-for-nothing every time you make a mistake. It's a tiring cycle to live in. This usually leads to people shutting themselves out and closing themselves off after living like that, pushing back your own feelings in favour of being the perfect child. However, we don't know the exact details of Dr. Ratio's childhood, but we can infer that he was held to a pedestal, and this is a very harmful mindset for a child to have.

His superiority complex comes both from how other people view him, but it's a way to cope with his crippling lack of self-esteem. I'm sorry my guy. Also helping others probably helps him feel like he's worth something and makes him feel better because he bases his entire worth off of what he can do and how he can help others. However, this is just my personal interpretation backed by what I have already deconstructed. 

In general, this is an easy way to crush self-esteem. You spend your whole life working to meet the image of what other people think you are. In fact, another reason why Dr. Ratio might be so harsh is because that’s the kind of attitude he holds towards himself when conducting research – he’s as hard on himself as he is to others. You end up hating the idea of failure, instead of seeing it as it should be - a way to improve and grow. Actually, I think this could be a reason that he went out of his way to break that illusion of 'worshipping geniuses' in the Space Station. Maybe some sort of childhood connection? Personal connection? In his endeavour to spread more knowledge and make people think for themselves and not blindly follow geniuses, to wake them up and let them think for themselves - maybe, somewhere, in there, he's helping that little child that was almost dehumanized for his intelligence. TLDR: Conflicting mindsets due to trauma, brain vs heart almost - his knowledge that he is a genius vs the crippling lack of his self worth.

Now that we've established Dr. Ratio's self worth, let's take a look at the impact Aeons had on him. Nous, the Aeon of Knowledge itself. I think in a world where the Gods are real, tangible beings that you can reach out and talk to - it makes sense that someone with high ambition and someone who's been called a genius his whole life would seek the confirmation of Nous. When you're a man of knowledge, and you've spent your whole life working with it, being praised for it – it feels natural to look for a god to look down upon you and bless you, right? The Genius Society – it should house him, because he is a genius as well, right? Imagine this – you have been called a genius your whole life, held to that kind of pedestal for so long, and now you wait for the recognition of the Gods. Because if you truly are a genius – then surely, a higher being will recognize your intelligence, right?

The invitation never comes.

And then, comes the doubt.

What if I'm really not a genius? What if everything I've worked for is a lie? Aeons are beings that are 'absolute'. If the god of Knowledge won't accept you or even cast a glance upon you, does that mean that everything was wrong. Gods see more than humans, after all. Gods know more than humans - and that spiral... I think you can see if. (If you don't let me know. I will ramble about how a failure like that can make you spiral down into a worse mindset). 

However, the reason why Ratio was never invited to the Genius Society is simple. It’s because he LOSES THE IDGAF WAR. Now, if we look at all the people we know who are in the Genius Society - we find one thing in common. They’re in it to win it for themselves. They don’t help others using the knowledge that they’ve gotten - they use it to pursue shit for themselves. The people of the Genius Society are inherently self-serving. They WIN the idgaf war. Ratio LOSES. Do we see now? 

Ratio’s empathy is the reason why he wasn’t let in. He is too human. Nous is a computer. Herta is detached from people. Ruan Mei is literally looking at life as test subjects. Screwllum is a robot. 

OUR DOCTOR MAN LOST THE IDGAF WAR, BECAUSE HE IS HUMAN AND FEELS FOR OTHERS!!! 

Also, it’s a plausible theory that Nous’s definition of ‘genius’ is different from the human definition of ‘genius’ – it’s a computer, after all. Who knows what’s going on in that code head of its. 

However, we still love you Ratio. Never stop losing the IDGAF war. 

TLDR: Nous is a computer. It is also in it to win it. It is also self serving. It gazes upon the hoes who are here to win it for themselves. Ratio is busy serving the masses and cooking knowledge in his frying pan. To it, there is no logical reason to be doing this. Therefore, no reason to invite this guy to the Genius Society. 

Ratio’s gifted child trauma says otherwise. He wants in. Why wouldn’t he? He’s been working his whole life as a genius. 

Nous is like… nah bro, you care too much. Ratio is like, ‘what the fuck?’ And then the AEON OF KNOWLEDGE GOES FOR THE MILK. 

Okay, now, quick shoutout to Ratio wanting to help others. He is just like me fr. SO BASICALLY, RECAP OF EVERYTHING I JUST SAID:

Ratio LOSES the idgaf war because he cares about other people. Spent his whole life as the golden egg, and then turns to the gods for recognition because of the inherent trauma of being a child genius. He goes, "hey bro, can you confirm that I am in fact a genius?" and Nous goes, "no, you are too busy cheffing for the masses." Ratio goes, "what the fuck?" and then we collectively realize his attitude comes from blocking off his feelings (while failing miserably), being salty about not being recognized, being put on a pedestal for his whole life, and his crippling depression *cough* lack of self worth *cough*. 

Oh, and the "I will never be enough" thought train probably hits him every single day. He is not enough to be recognized by a God. Gods are superior to humans. Maybe nothing has worth after all. Hey, that's Nihility! Hi IX, let's hear what you have to say.

*muffled ix noises*

I see, I see.

The consensus is: HE'S TRAUMATIZED BY EXPECTATIONS! HE WILL PROBABLY SUFFER FROM BURNT OUT GIFTED CHILD IF HE HAS NOT ALREADY!

Okay, now, before I delve into song lyrics (and I KNOW this has been long, just bear with me) I want to talk a little bit (read: a lot) about his relationship with Aventurine. We all know that he cares about Aventurine in his own way. But I want to pull in another idea that I didn’t cover before: 

Ratio’s fucking emotional constipation. 

Basically, the reason why he has trouble connecting with others is because he was most likely alienated by others as a symptom of being called a genius and being put on a pedestal. This makes him seem unapproachable to his peers, most likely, and therefore, as a result, doesn’t know how to properly connect with others. This just makes his way of presenting affection and care to others even more challenging – because he just doesn’t know how to do it in a healthy and clear way. Academic trauma causing emotional problems, because he’s probably a little bit out of touch with his own. Processing? No! Research. Also, this is very important for understanding Ratio’s character in my opinion, because he’s just a little guy who doesn’t know how to articulate. Maybe he’s got a touch of the ‘tism. Tism mutuals, do we agree or disagree? 

However, in comes Aventurine. Love Aventurine, but they are both emotionally constipated. Aventurine displays his affection in ways that Ratio probably only catches after re-analyzing their time together about five times. He’s also a very closed off individual – but Ratio knows this. A cute thing is that Ratio is patient where he needs to be, even if he’s generally a pretty hot-headed guy, and I’m like… bro… that letter… “I wish you the best of luck”... I will wait for you…. GAY ASS MAN…

Sorry the Aventio demons took over. Anyway, what I’m trying to say here is that they both have nonverbal communication with one another that they clearly decipher and Ratio obviously cares for him (he came back and almost jeopardized the plan just for the sake of his ‘coworker’... okay gayboy…) and they just have such a neat little dynamic… Aventurine lets Dr. Ratio do his thing… understands his emotional alienation to a degree…. they’re so neat….

Okay, Aventurine segment over. NOW, FINALLY, WE CAN GET TO THE SONG LYRICS!!! YAY!!!! We all cheered!!!

We are going to be here for two more amber eras, because I realized I actually want to analyze every single lyric from both of these songs. Brace yourself for like, 2k more words. Help. 

I think it’s only proper that we start off with ‘Oh No!’ the song that has haunted me since my childhood.

“Don’t do love, don’t do friends

I’m only after success

Don’t need a relationship

I’ll never soften my grip”

Remember when I mentioned that alienation was a big part of Ratio lore? Yeah, that manifests itself in this. When you spend your entire life chasing after knowledge and being held to that standard of untouchable genius, it makes sense that you couldn’t connect with others and that you turn your gaze only to success. Therefore, relationships that are interpersonal lose meaning for a bit – you’re just looking for answers and ways to help them, not connect with them. Also, this is what he wants to do – so he’s never going to pass down an opportunity to better himself or to help someone else. 

“Don’t want cash, don’t want card

Want it fast, want it hard 

Don’t need money, don’t need fame

I just want to make a change

I just wanna change, I just wanna change” 

This is directly alluding to his reasonings for distributing knowledge across the cosmos. Was he based on this song? Maybe he was. He’s not looking for money or fame, his ultimate goal is actually pretty selfless – to bring knowledge and give people the tools they need to think for themselves. He just wants to make a change – he just wants people to be able to have access to knowledge and help cure ‘stupidity’. He wants to do it as quickly as possible, always reaching for lofty goals that might seem impossible, but he will make them possible. 

“I know exactly what I want and who I want to be

I know exactly why I walk and talk like a machine

I’m now becoming my own self-fulfilled prophecy

Oh! Oh no! Oh no! Oh no, oh!” 

Ratio knows his goal. He knows what he’s working towards. I do believe that he understands why he is the way that he is – he has a degree in Psychology, after all. He knows how he’s been hurt but at the same time, the trauma brain probably doesn’t want to recognize it and he hasn’t stepped into healing yet. He knows what he went through impacted him, but he’s too busy helping others to help himself. He’s becoming what he wants to be, and yet he’s not, all at the same time – which causes the idea of “oh no!” as a kind of cry for help, almost. He’s too proud to ask for it himself, of course, so he’ll fall alone until someone manages to catch him and give him the strength to continue holding on. Aventurine is that. 

“One track mind, one track heart

If I fail, I’ll fall apart

Maybe it is all a test

‘Cause I feel like I’m the worst

So I always act like I’m the best” 

Now, these are the exact lyrics that made me associate this song with Ratio in the first place. He’s got a singular goal that he will do nothing to stop at getting, that he goes so far to get to. However, as I mentioned earlier, failure is not an option for those who were deemed gifted or genius. You are perfect, so therefore you must live up to everyone’s every expectation and surpass them, too, in order to keep your perception of yourself intact. Ratio does not hold himself in high regard, but acts arrogant in order to hold himself together and not fall to the self-deprecating thoughts, even if they fall through the cracks. It gets tiring to hold yourself together like that for a long time, you know? 

“I’m gonna live, I’m gonna fly

I’m gonna fail, I’m gonna die

I’m gonna live, I’m gonna fly

I’m gonna fail, I’m gonna die” 

Remember how I was talking about contradictory mindsets and how they can coexist. This is them. The feeling of crippling self-hatred and lack of self esteem versus the idea that you can do it, you can make a difference – you were born a genius, this is what you’re going to do. This is the knowledge that you are a genius vs the lack of self-esteem that Ratio has. “Mediocre” vs “genius” mindset, eh? 

All the other lyrics in this song are repetitions of what I’ve analyzed before, so let’s move onto “Are you Satisfied?” 

To be honest, there are only a few lines in this song that allow me to connect it to Ratio, so therefore, I will only be analyzing them. However, if you think that other lyrics can connect to him, I’d be interested in knowing how. 

“What you’re gonna be 

It’s not my problem if you don’t see what I see

And I do not give a damn if you don’t believe

My problem, it’s my problem that I never am happy

It’s my problem, it’s my problem on how fast I will succeed”

Pretending to not care about how the world sees you is so fucking real. Sometimes, you really don’t give a shit, and sometimes it’s all you can think about. Ratio… doesn’t seem like he’s the happiest person. He works himself hard and he’s always chasing after a goal that must be exhausting. He’s always doing his best, and I think even with his empathy, it’s easy to start not giving a shit after trying for so long and so hard. Accepting help is one of the hardest things that anybody can do, especially with how much pride he has. His personal problems are his personal problems and he can deal with them on his own. 

“High achiever, don’t you see? 

Baby, nothing comes for free

They say I’m a control freak

Driven by a greed to succeed

Nobody can stop me” 

Nothing comes for free. A lot of the things Ratio has achieved is due to his own intelligence, yes, but also because of a shit ton of hard work. His goal is literally to cure the universe of ‘stupidity’ – and that’s a pretty large fucking goal. He is a high achiever who likes to know the details of every situation when he can in order to try and make things better, and he is driven by a greed to succeed. Why wouldn’t he be? Success is important, and success means helping more people. He isn’t going to allow himself to be stopped by anybody – not even anybody from the Genius society. 

Okay, and we have finally reached the end of my analysis! This caps at around 4k words, so if you stuck around for this long, thank you so much. I would love to hear any of your comments, and I hope you laughed a little bit. Thank you again! This means so much to me that you read. <3

#dr ratio #drratio #honkai star rail #hsr #hsr dr ratio #hsr ratio #veritas ratio #character analysis #song lyrics #song analysis #attempt at humour #so that you don't get bored #long ahh analysis #analysis #media analysis #aventio #ratiorine #managed to sneak them in #i love homos #help #god help me #aurae analyzes

[thesmutsideblog]

Never Ever? - Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: After a you and your long term ex breakup, some truths about your sex life come to light at the BAU and the idea that you've never had an orgasm, does not fly with Spencer Reid.

Reader is AFAB, and the story is using she/her pronouns, mostly because this one is really self indulgent and loosely based on me being pissed off about my ex.

Content warnings: dumbification of Spencer Reid, simp Spencer, shitty ex boyfriend, self indulgent writing, no beta or proof reading, cursing, smut, sexual worship, porn with plot I guess.

I have never written in second person before so I can only apologise for the shit quality of this, I havent written smut since 2018 and it's unedited, there is going to be spelling issues it's the dyslexia I'm sorry xx

GIF by comeandjointhebigboys

Spencer is doing everything in his power to look like he is minding his business, mostly because he really is trying to not eavesdrop. He came over to make a cup of coffee because he got barely any sleep last night and he wants to keep focused. But with no case directly at hand, there was something else the team were paying attention to and it was impossible for Spencer to completely ignore it.

"So he just, broke up with you?" Emily asks, dumbfounded.

"Over the phone," you say tilting your mug towards yourself, choosing to stare down at the small remainder of your coffee rather than to make eye contact with your team members.

"What an asshole," JJ says, lacing her arms together, until she looks like a disapproving mother. "Did he say why?"

"He said, we were going different places, and it would be a disservice to the time we spent together to pretend to be happy and keep lying to eachother," you say, sighing and putting the mug down, choosing to accept this caring interrogation about your breakup as your fate for the next twenty minutes.

"He used those words?" Emily asks, still trying to grapple the concept that your boyfriend, who she had met on a few occasions and had some thoughts she kept to herself about, had broken up with you.

"He used those words but what he really meant was 'I want to start sleeping with my twenty year old coworker and you spend too much time at work, so I'm ending things,' but he won't have the decency to admit that, despite the fact he was sleeping with her before the week was out," you roll your eyes as Emily and JJ continue to voice their disgust, loudly across the bullpen. You catch Spencer's eye for a moment and give him a small sad smile across the room, he nods and then looks away.

The guilt is eating Spencer alive. It's not like he actually had anything to do with the end of your relationship, he actively kept himself far away from it and even discussing it with you as possible. But the facts still remained the same, he likes you. He has liked you since your first day at the BAU and his feelings have never faltered. But you have always been in that relationship since long before he met you, and he knew that he didn't stand a chance, and he wouldn't want to mess around with that anyway. But he was unable to disagree with Prentiss, his own feelings for you aside, the simple fact of the matter was you have always been well out of your exes league. You are beautiful, and intelligent and charismatic, and your ex thought he was those things but more often than not fell short.

It's not like he even wished that your relationship would end and could blame it on the unlikely event of magical intervention. But the sheer fact that he was undeniably happier that you were no longer dating a man you were once very much in love with, that was enough to have him feeling guilty. Which is one of the many reasons he is really trying to not get involved in this conversation. One of the many reasons he is trying to keep a distance.

"How long were you two together again, like three years?" JJ asks. You shake your head.

"High school sweethearts," you correct her, "it's been a lot longer than three years."

"And he broke up with you over the phone, for a co-worker?" Emily emphasis each word in the sentence as she slowly sounds them out.

"He denies the last part but, yes," you nod.

"What are you beautiful ladies being so loud about?" Derek asks, approaching the three of you with some files in hand.

"The fact that men never fail to both disappoint and astound me," Emily states looking up at Derek from her seat, "no offence."

"None taken, but a little context wouldn't go a miss," he says looking at each of you in turn.

"My ex is a pig," you explain as nonchalantly as you can manage. You're trying really hard to be very collected about this. You've had a few days to process the breakup and you knew it was coming, even if you won't admit that to yourself. But being broken up with hurts, whether you see it coming or not. He was the only person you ever really dated, and having spent so much of your life with him this was a big adjustment. But deep down you weren't exactly mad about the situation, as much as it made you feel a lot better to complain about it. Things had not been right between the two of you for quite some time, and you find yourself almost relieved that it's over. But that still gave him no right to be as much of an asshole about it all as he has been.

"So he is the only guy you've ever really dated then, huh?" Emily asks. You give her a look as the thought crosses through her mind. "Wait, does that mean?"

"We started dating when we were barely more than kids Emily," you defend.

"So it's just been that guy, that guy?" Emily is struggling to be even the smallest part composed. "What is wrong with men?"

"You need some strange," Derek says casually.

"Morgan," JJ scolds him but Emily is slowly nodding her head. "Emily..."

"Best way to get over someone," Emily points out.

"Wow, I am not getting under anyone," you state, holding up your hands.

"Look, I understand the appeal of someone you've been with for a long time, they know you, they know what you like," Derek leans back on the table, "so new is risky, and some people really don't have a clue what they're doing I'll admit," he chuckles, "but trust me the longer you leave it-" Derek knows he isn't crossing a boundary, you and him have had plenty of conversations, but as soon as you give him the look to stop talking, he stops.

"I appreciate your concern but sex, is really not at the top of my priority list," you say.

"Please don't let a guy like that ruin it for you," Emily is staring up at the ceiling all types of distressed at the idea of your ex and his general existence.

"I don't think you need to worry about him ruining anything for me, more like just wasting my time," you say before realising that may be revealing too much. All three of them look at you instantly. "Do not read into that."

"Disinterest," Emily states looking you up and down. "And no immediate desire to release that usually comes with a breakup."

"We're not really doing this, are we?" JJ asks looking between the two profilers concerned.

"She's been distant the last few months, talking less and less about him, so the breakup wasn't unexpected, which means the sexlife probably wasn't up to scratch at the time," Derek adds.

"Oh you guys are doing this," JJ gives you an apologetic look as they start rattling off assumptions.

You try your best to ignore them until Derek says something which does tiptoe over the line- by a mile. "Pretty boy, what are the statistics on post breakup sex?" He is half joking but it pulls Spencer directly into a conversation he had been trying to avoid.

Spencer knows the answer, and that's obvious, but answering will only encourage them to get him involved in the conversation. But not answering is suspicious and could cause worse problems. He pushes his thumb into the centre of his palm as he speaks. "27% of adults report having sex with an ex within a two-year period," Spencer states knowing that's not what Derek meant but hoping he could get away with it.

"No, I mean rebound sex," Derek corrects.

"Studies show that thirty-five percent of those who are broken up with have sex to get over their ex, and twenty-five percent as a form of revenge," Spencer says giving in and stepping closer to the group.

"Look sixty five percent of rebound relationships fail within six months," you say. That's a safe thing to say you believe, as you know the team would likely assign that research as an attempt to make an educated guess how long the fling with the coworker would last. But Spencer knows better. He cannot help but wonder if that's what has been making you act differently the last few months. If you saw the end in sight and wondered what that means for you when it's over.

"You're not looking for a relationship though, you're just looking for some fun," JJ points out.

"You do remember how to have fun, don't you beautiful," Derek asks giving you a wink.

"Yeah," you say brushing him off.

"Do you?" Derek asks, unconvinced.

"I told you, I'm not interested in going out and getting laid, it's not worth the energy," you say.

"When was the last time you had an orgasm?" Emily asks. Spencer chokes on his coffee.

"Emily!" JJ chastises her.

"Someone had to ask," Emily says.

"No one had to," you tell her.

"Come on, six months?" Emily asks. "A year?"

"Emily," JJ warns.

"Shit..." Derek whispers and you feel his gaze on you intensifying. He has you all figured out.

"What?" Spencer asks, not meaning to.

Derek is keeping his eyes on you and you cannot meet his eye. "Tell me I'm wrong pretty girl," Derek says, wanting himself to be wrong.

"I... I don't know... You're a profiler, how am I supposed to lie to you?" You huff.

"Are you kidding me?" Derek asks.

"Derek you're not helping," you state.

"Sorry," he says, "I just don't understand how that can be the case."

"You said it yourself, some people really don't have a clue what they're doing," you say.

"So you've never?" Emily asks cottoning on.

"Can we please stop talking about this," you say.

Spencer's brain is ticking over trying to read between the lines and when it clicks he is struck with a similar dumbfounding as Morgan. How? How?

He cannot help but have one clear thought scrambling around his brain at a million miles per hour. If he had ever had the chance, he wouldn't have wanted anything more than to make sure you felt good. To know he had made you feel good.

How inconsiderate could your ex be? How little attention must he have been playing to not even notice that you were not getting what he was out of it? How had he never cared to make that better?

And why did you not feel cheated by that fact?

"I'm not eavesdropping," Garcia defends bringing Spencer out of his head and back into the room.

"Okay why don't we just fax everyone the stats on my sex life," you groan, resting your head in your hands.

"I'm just saying," Garcia tries.

"I appreciate all of the unnecessary concern," you say, "but my sex life isn't a BAU case." Emily smiles as she goes to speak but you catch her thought right before she opens her mouth. "And it's no ones problem to solve either."

"It's a little tragic," JJ confesses.

"JJ," you're surprised, JJ is normally the one you can count on to get the others back on track but she just shrugs.

"Let's leave it be, Garcia do we have a case," Spencer is talking with his hands even more than normal and you cannot help but notice. He is trying to come to your rescue and you appreciate that. You appreciate everything Spencer does.

"Maybe," Garcia explains, waving her tablet at the group. "Hotch wants us in the conference room, five minutes ago."

You're quick to get out of your seat and away from the grilling you are receiving from the team and everyone else is quick behind you. Hotch and Rossi are at the desk when you all enter.

Hotch frowns. "You took a while," he notes.

"Discussing the breakup?" Rossi asks, looking you up and down.

"I dont even want to know what has given that away," you admit taking a seat. Hotch nods a half apology which you silently shrug off in return.

You were trying your best to pay attention, giving Hotch the respect he deserves, but the case he was talking about didnt feel like it required the BAU's involvement and Emily is quick to voice that opinion. You managed to register a few words about consulting and favours, but nothing is really sinking in, not when you can feel Spencer's gaze on you as hot as a fever.

You raise your eyes to meet his and they dart away. You think back, and it occurs to you that maybe conversations about your sex life or anyone of the teams sex lives for that matter wasnt exactly what Spencer signed up for. You feel a little guilty, knowing you kind of indulged the others and let him get pulled into the conversation even if that wasnt your intention.

You catch him looking at you again but he doesnt see you looking back, it's like he is trapped in a thought, and in this moment you've never seen Spencer look so without a clue.

"Reid?" Hotch asks, repeating the question.

Spencer looks to Hotch, and he buffers. You know he knows the answer to the question, you know he always knows, but his brain seems to have frozen up on him. "I... sorry what?"

"This is statistics kid," Derek says, "are you sick or something?"

Emily gently pokes Spencers shoulder. "Maybe he is getting a software update," she jokes.

You lean forward and give Hotch the answer he is looking for, remembering from a conversation you and Spencer had a few weeks back about Ohio. Hotch gives a side eye to Rossi before continuing.

You look back at Spencer and he is watching you again, you offer him a small smile and he returns it. You've always been better at reading Spencer than most members of the team but you don't recognize this behaviour at all.

"Are you okay?" You ask him as you both make your way down the steps of the BAU.

"Of course, why do you ask?"

"You blanked back there, Spence, pretty hard," you say as gently as you can, "I havent seen you like that since..."

"Since when?" Spencer looks curious, and softer somehow.

"Since we worked that case in Illinois, with the models, you took one look at that girl Annie Grant was it, and your IQ dropped like a hundred points," you laugh gently.

"She was pretty," Spencer confesses.

"I think Morgan got her number," you recall.

"He did," Spencer agrees.

"So, what is it? Because it's not a pretty girl in lounge wear," you say.

"You dont know that for sure," you can tell he is trying to joke around the subject, and normally youd find that cute. Cute in the kind of way you havent been able to admit to yourself before. Because having a crush on a coworker is not convenient at the best of times.

"Okay, Dr Reid, keep your secrets," you give him gentle shove and his smile is disarming, soft and so happy to just be involved. "Got any fun evening plans?"

"There's this new study into cognitive dissonance in specific trauma patterns I have been meaning to read," he offers. You bite back a chuckle.

"You've got a date with science," you nod to yourself, "of course you do."

He looks around, thinking for a moment. "Are you going to walk?" He asks.

"I usually do," you admit, "it's only a few blocks after all."

"Can I," he pauses, "can I walk you?"

"You want to walk me home?" You ask, a little suprised at the offer.

"If that's okay, the study can wait," he says. There is a look in his eyes you can't quite pinpoint, somewhere between pleading and hopeful. You nod.

"I'd love that Spence."

The distance to your apartment door had never felt so short, and you hadn't realised until now quite how much you enjoyed the moments when you were with Spencer, and no one else was watching. Maybe because he paid less attention to making sure no one noticed him watching you, and he just keeps watching.

Spencer looks at his feet as you fumble with your keys, he has no idea what he is doing. He didn't think any of this through, he just kept thinking about you, and what you deserved and what you should've always been given and now he is stood at the doorstep of your place with no plan, no idea of what compelled him to think any of this was a good idea and no idea of what to do next.

You smile at him, and bite your lower lip just a small bit, the look is so demure that Spencer wonders if he imagined the entire conversation in the bullpen, wondering if maybe he was really so wrapped up in these months of conflicted feelings for you that he managed to lapse from reality so badly that he got himself here.

"Do you want to come in for coffee?" You offer and his heart damn near stops in his chest.

"Coffee is never coffee kid," Derek's voice rings in his head. "It's an invitation."

"Got decaf?" Spencer asks, and you laugh.

"Like anyone who works at the BAU knows what decaf is," you open the door wide and walk through. "You coming?"

He doesn't answer but follows you, closing the door behind him. Your apartment isn't a mess but it's clear things have been moved around since your breakup, there is clear empty spaces where things once collected dust, like so many things once filled a place and vanished. You weren't dwelling on the relationship, because there wasn't a point. You had loved and you had lost, and you knew it went like that sometimes.

"You better not be profiling me Dr Reid," you quip as you catch him looking around.

"I wouldn't dare," he says.

"So, are you going to explain why you're being so sheepish?" You ask, reaching for a mug, to actually make coffee.

"I'm being sheepish?" he asks. He had hoped he was hiding it better.

"Nervous at the very least," you say putting the kettle on. He says nothing and you sigh. "Did we make you uncomfortable earlier?"

"What?" Spencer asks, caught off guard by the question.

"Talking about my ex," you offer up. "I know that sort of gossip isn't exactly for everyone-,"

"No," he is quick to defend, "that's not what's bothering me."

You smirk and he sees the trap you laid for him that he walked right into. "So something is bothering you pretty boy," Morgan's nickname for him falls from your lips and it sounds so different. It burns every nerve ending, each fibre of his being and he forgets how to speak for a moment too long. "Spence?"

"I," he brings himself back.

"I don't mean to pry, you don't have to tell me anything," you explain quickly.

"How was your ex such an idiot?" he asks outright. You laugh, it's short and shallow because you're not expecting anything close to that from Spencer.

"What?" It's your turn to feel dumb now as you spiral trying to process what Spencer is suggesting. That the conversation had gotten to him, but not in the way you'd thought. His problem hadn't been with the topic but the content, the confession. The kettle brings itself to a boil but you're interest is elsewhere now.

"I don't mean to speak out of place here, but if I were him there are so many things I would've done differently," he fidgets with his tie but doesn't stop. This confession is coming out now or not at all and he wants it finished. He needs it finished. He does not want blurred lines. Not between the two of you. "Not even touching the subject of how your relationship ended. I wouldn't have left you in the rain last October, I wouldn't have held all the things I knew about you when we met as reasons to run years after I agreed to love you regardless. I wouldn't have let you go to work angry all those times. I wouldn't have lied about plans. I wouldn't have let you go to sleep sad or angry, and be gone in the morning. I wouldn't have left you wanting, for anything. Because if I was him I would understand what a beautiful rarity it is to find someone who does what you do, with your compassion and determination and dedication and is still kind, still hopeful, even when things are dark. There are not a lot of things I don't know much about, and maybe relationships, and romance and sex are in that limited list, and maybe he would argue that hypotheticals hold no ground when your experience is as limited as mine, but I frankly don't care what his opinion would be. Because he didn't see you for what you are and that means his thoughts are of no value to me. I don't tell you this because I am expecting you to say anything, it's just burning me up that you weren't treated, hell worshiped, in the way you deserved and I had to tell you that I can't think of anything more wrong." He steps back and you're still catching your breath. "I, I am sorry I shouldn't have... I will see you at work."

He turns and strides to the door, and your breath heaves in and out of your chest and you wonder if you can find your voice before his hand finds purchase on your doors lock. "Spencer," you breathe out. He pauses, hand hovering over the door handle.

"Yes?" his voice is so quiet, and he doesn't turn to look at you.

"Please don't leave," the request falls from your lips and Spencer has never felt more of a need to do something than to do anything you ask of him in this moment. But his doubt still hangs gently in the space between the two of you.

"What?" he asks again, searching in the word to find something to hold onto, looking for some guidance or instructions he missed. He didn't have a plan, and he doesn't know what to do with this.

"Please," you say again, voice sturdier now as you start to close the distance between the two of you, "Spence," his breath hitches as you place a hand gently on his shoulder, encouraging him to turn back to you, and he does, "don't leave."

His eyes stare into yours and you swear you feel all the months of unsaid things, of quiet wanting, of stolen thoughts in weak moments, bursting at the seams. You had told yourself in another world, another life time, had you met Spencer Reid and the timing had been different, if you had been different, he would've been everything. You told yourself from that first day that those brown eyes may plead into you with every moment you meet them but it was never going to be the right time.

His eyes stare into yours and he feels the weight of all the things he long tired to bury, crawling their way up from the depths and pushing against his skin, desperate to get out. Desperate to be known. Desperate to correct the wrongs and do right by you. Desperate.

His hand hovers touch's length away, scared to close the distance, scared to make the move, to change everything. You both know in this moment, that all it takes is one touch and you're going over the cliff.

This is a road you do not turn back from.

You whisper one last time, like a prayer, "Spence," and in a blink gravity turns back on, and everything blooms in bright technicolour.

It unfolds in a rush, his hand to your waist, pulling you that much closer, both of your hands gripping to the fabric of his shirt as he pulls you up to him, other hand moving gently under your chin to guide the tilt of your head. His lips crash onto yours and there's a hunger you've never seen in him, and a hunger you've never known inside yourself.

There's a gentleness, a caution in his desperation, in his need, one that you don't have in your own. He keeps kissing you and you back up, footing not very careful as you tighten your grip on his shirt. Your back finds support against the edge of your counter and you find yourself letting on of the hands slip from the fabric of his button down to tug at his tie, to keep him closer at first, and then in an attempt to remove it entirely.

He pulls back for a moment, not to catch breath as either of you would be happy to drown in this moment, but his eyes are scanning you, like he is looking for something else, something missing.

You pause, slowly tugging the tie from his collar and letting it fall to your floor. "Spencer?" you ask.

He looks lost as he breathes in. "I don't know what I am doing," he says.

"You're doing great is what you're doing," you say, not looking away.

"Is this okay?" he finally asks. Your heart starts running away from you as you try to remember to breathe.

"This is more than okay," you assure him, "please Spencer, don't stop kissing me."

That's all he needs to hear and his lips are back on yours and the kisses are feverish and starved and he presses his hands into your hips and the gentle moan that leaves your lips sends Spencer's mind spinning.

He pulls his lips from yours and starts kissing a trail down to your neck, you lean more into the support of the counter top and let a hand find it's way into a tangle of his brown hair.

His tongue against your skin, the gentle brush of teeth on that spot that makes the sound from before seem like a draft of a masterpiece. Spencer knows that now he has heard you, voice like honey, moan trembling from your lips, nails dug into his scalp gently tugging on his hair, barely able to keep your eyes open yet again your breathing steady, no sound will ever compare.

In the the times he had let himself think about you, imagine all the things, let his fantasies and dreams run away with him, he had never come close to this moment. How your fingers shake as you start to unbutton his shirt, needing to do something, needing something.

Needing him.

And you can feel his need in return, in the way he holds onto you, on the way he is listening to your body, hearing every response, feeling every movement, determined to do this right.

He feels the way you press your tights together, tight against the counter, the need for something more radiating off of you, and you don't give time for the doubt to creep in. "We should," you breathe out as you feel the blood rushing through you, knowing that there will be marks from where he is kissing you that you won't be able to hide tomorrow, not that you want to, "move this to the bedroom."

"Is now a bad time to point out that I have mostly just a conceptual understanding of what we are about to do?" Spencer asks between kisses.

"I think you're worrying too much, because if you're basing this on theory," you take his hand leading him towards your room, "so far you're giving nothing but hard evidence."

You let your own innuendo slide as you both fall back onto your bed, he looks down as he leans over you, and there's a softness, a patience in this moment, as he needs to soak it all in.

You reach up and continue to undo the buttons on his shirt until they are completely undone, and he watches you as you do, you give the fabric a gentle tug and he catches on, slipping the rest of the shirt and the jacket off and letting it fall back somewhere out of mind. You trace a hand gently up his arm and he leans down to kiss you again, your lips, your jaw, your neck.

He runs a thumb over the deep red mark he has left and you feel the fever rising again. You need out of these clothes, you need more.

You start to undo your own shirt buttons and as each button comes undone Spencer follows the trail of exposed skin and leaves hot kisses on each new place.

You can feel the hard outline of his cock against your thigh as you reach to unzip the side of your skirt. The nervousness is still fluttering in Spencer's face as he helps you slip out of it. His fingertips brushing over exposed skin, his hand creeping up the inside of your thigh and you buck up gently at the touch.

His lips trace kisses up your torso to your chest and like this, each kiss so intoxicating, each touch so electrifying, his hand inching further and further up your thigh, as his lips dance over the skin around the fabric of your bra there is nothing he could ask of you that you would not do.

Sex may never have been perfect before, but you'd always thought it was at least decent, passing, respectable. But this build up with Spencer, his hands on your skin, his lips leaving evidence on your body that he has been here, this was more than you'd ever felt. And he hadn't even really touched you yet.

You reach to undo his trousers, eager to get him in less clothing but he pulls back, out of your reach. "Not yet," he whispers against your skin, "you start doing that and this will be over way too soon." He brings his lips to yours again, stealing a deep kiss as he unclasps your bra. "And this is about you, all about you," he is mumbling again, almost incoherent against you. He is determined, his mind is focused on you and your pleasure and what you deserve.

You don't think you've ever wanted anything as much as you want this.

His thumb brushes against the your clothed skin, and sparks shoot through your body, nails digging into his shoulder as you gasp at the contact.

He nudges closer, his forehead pressed to yours, and you look at him. Spencer, your colleague, your friend. Spencer who never forgets your coffee order. Spencer who stayed all night to help with paperwork because you lost a bet. Spencer who has accompanied you to every movie you've ever asked him to. Spencer who bought an extra ticket to every convention just in case you would want to come.

"Please," you plead, like you need to, as if it was possible that he wouldn't do anything for you in this moment. As if you even needed to ask.

He kisses you, pulling you up and towards him, breathing you in as his hand finds its way between the elastic of your underwear and your skin.

Your nerves are as quick to respond to his touch as fire to a accelerant. Every movement makes you wonder if Spencer was given some map of your body that you didn't know existed, a guide to movement and pressure and timing that couldn't be more perfect.

You are nodding at his movements, keening at every increase of pace, every finger curl, every swipe of his thumb. Your body shuddering in anticipation and a pleasure you never knew courses through you.

Spencer is leaving compliments with every kiss across your body, so eager to please, so desperate to worship. When he hits the spot, your body gives you away at alarming speed, you buck, moving your arms to prop yourself up on elbows, leaning into him, into the movements, rutting against him. "Fuck," you manage in the haze.

Spencer responds to this approval with dedication and vigour and then you feel it, that hot white coil of pleasure pulling at you, like a tight chord. "Shit," you start breathing heavier, faster, "shit, shit."

"You're so incredibly beautiful," you hear Spencer whisper. You can't keep your eyes open as your knees begin to shake.

"Spencer," you whimper, not for any reason but to say his name. The need to say his name over and over, and over as the chord pulls tight and finally snaps.

The pleasure explodes through you, every nerve tingling, like fireworks cascading through you. You shake, riding the high through and fall back onto the bed, slumped with a laboured breath.

Spencer moves back up to be level with you, gently brushes some stray hairs from your face and he smiles down at you. "That is what it's supposed to feel like?" You ask.

If this was all he could have for the rest of his life, Spencer would be a happy man. He plants a kiss on your forehead, and that look of devotion has not left his eyes.

But he has been filled with a new sense of purpose, like he was made for this. For you.

He doesn't have time to debate internally if your ex was purely just that poor at what he did or if it feeling so easy, coming so naturally to him was something else entirely. He didn't really care which it was, maybe both. Right now all he cared about was making up for lost time, lost opportunities, all your disappointment.

He kisses you again and the force of it is more knowing, more sure, it's hot and messy and every moment it feels like you need to be closer, deeper, more entwined. The whole time he keeps his hand in your underwear, thumb running in soft, intensely accurate circles as his fingers do most of the work.

It crosses your mind that maybe it should be almost embarrassing that he is making it so easy. It should be embarrassing that Spencer barely needed any time to bring that second orgasm to precipice. It should be embarrassing that you're convinced this man could make you come by the way he kisses you alone, but you're not embarrassed. Not because you've never felt the pleasure like this before, not because you think pleasure it never something to be embarrassed about and not because after everything you deserve this. But because it's Spencer Reid, and everything with him has always felt like it is exactly as it should be, and him making you feel this way, is no exception.

He holds you in the kiss as your second orgasm pulses through you, just as intense as the first one, he feels you shake as it floods you. A moan escaping into the kiss, from your mouth to his and he groans against your lips.

He is so focused on you that he isn't paying any attention to how this is effecting him, how hard he is against you. How desperate he is for you. His need for your pleasure overtaking any need of his own.

You know if left to his own devices Spencer would stay as the two of you are, skin pressed to skin, lips on yours, trying to write years worth of wrongs in one night. But you do not want to give into exhaustion before you have let him ruin your expectations in all the ways you know.

He moves from your lips to your neck and before you can process much of his plans you feel the kisses trailing your hipbone, and with the third orgasm approaching you can see where his mind has wondered to. You lean forward, gasping in pleasure, but determined to get his attention, you place a hand on the side of his face, tilting up his chin to meet your eyes. "Wait," is all you manage to moan out before the pleasure tears into you, your head falls back and you grab a fistful of sheet, trying to keep yourself up through the pleasure.

Spencer does as you ask and waits until you manage to gather your words, eyes on you. "Please," you try. He runs his eyes over your body trying to understand your request.

You reach down, pulling once again at the edge of his trousers, fumbling to undo them, to get him out of them. You've never known Spencer to be so slow to catch on, but he is practically drunk on you.

"Oh," he manages. "Oh."

Before he can start to explain all the reasons he doesn't think that's important right now you look up at him with those eyes so pleading. "Please," you whisper again.

And he is putty in your hand, happy to do anything you ask of him, he nods and you finish undoing his trousers and push them down, he finishes discarding them.

Now it's your fingertips against his skin and he holds his breath as you move for his boxers. "Is this okay?" you ask quietly.

"You're everything I have ever wanted," the honey leaves his lips and you kiss him, his lips focused on you as you help him out of his boxers and pull him down and close.

"I need you," you whisper. "Right now, I need you."

"I am yours," he responds.

You keep your fingers threaded in his hair, and you tug a little harder as you become overwhelmed with him. "Fuck," Spencer's voice shudders in pleasure and you understand his desperation to please you instantly, because you want nothing more than to give him everything.

Everything becomes a mixture of moans and names, lips pressed to skin, and fabric scrunched with every thrust. You kiss Spencer's neck, finding his sweet spot with a similar precision to which he found yours. Leaving a collection of marks on his neck before her buries his face into yours, repeating your name over and over, becoming more and more wanting. His neediness matching your own and as he digs his fingers into your hips that now familiar feeling starts to rush you.

"Spencer, I am going to cum again," you whisper. Spencer cannot form words, he just keeps kissing, sucking, digging at your skin, even now he isn't close enough to you. "Fuck!" You scream out and the pleasure of your orgasm is almost too much for Spencer.

"Fuck, I," Spencer's brain is doing flips trying to figure out what to do, what he is supposed to do. "I am going to."

"Please," you beg in his ear.

"I should, I haven't," he is trying to piece the words together but they're not coming. You know what is trying to say, what is cannot find the words to ask.

"Please stay with me," you say, nudging his nose with your own, "please."

Your gentle request is his breaking point and he crashes his lips back onto yours as his own orgasm comes to fruition.

He collapses down next to you, both catching your breath. "Fuck," you repeat, for what might be the millionth time, as you long lost count.

You cannot help it, you let out a little laugh and Spencer glances at you, a smile breaking out on his face. "For the record, I hadn't planned that," he says.

"For the record, I really planned on drinking my coffee."

"I can make you a coffee," Spencer offers, turning to his side.

"We should, get cleaned up first," you smile.

"Then coffee?"

"Then coffee."

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[angelltheninth]

The Bad Batch Dating a Medic

Pairing: Hunter, Crosshair, Wrecker, Tech, Echo x Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, flirting on the battlefield, injuries, recovery, soothing kisses

A/N: I'm not ready for TBB to end!

Hunter is the one who gets hurt most often. Taking risks is part of being a leader so you're know that when he goes on a mission he's coming back with something that needs to be taken a look at. While he is used to the pain he does still feel it, most of the time it's caused by his own stunts so he doesn't blame anyone for it.

"I disagree, if I stay behind that means more of my brothers could get hurt. That's gonna make more work for you too. Then who's gonna spend time by my bedside telling me to stay down? No, it does have to be you, I won't listen otherwise."

Crosshair stays behind to make sure others don't get hurt so in a since your jobs aren't that far apart. He has to watch out for you too, so he likes it when you're by his side. Acts as more of an escort for you when you are in the battlefield, which means he can flirt with you with no one knowing. It's a good job as far as he's concerned.

"Lay low, or do you want to end up on the med table instead? For a medic you seem to have quite the taste for danger. Well you are dating me aren't you, what's that tell you? If you're looking to have your adrenaline spike I can do that after the mission."

Wrecker always goes in fists and blasters first and safety concern dead last. The many scars on his body are proof of his sturdy, hard nature but you don't worry for him any less because of that. Often he acts as a shield for his brothers, the heavy hitter who can take anything. Everything except seeing you upset when you see him hurt.

"I've taken blastershots up-close and lived. Thought that one guy was tryin' to tickle me. Really, it doesn't hurt at all, I swear by my brothers. I'll take it easy for today... if you kiss that spot. Don't they say you medics can heal anything, so why not heal your big guy with a little kiss?"

Tech is rarely the one who gets seriously hurt since he stays at the back of the team. Watches himself and his surrounding carefully so he's not often in the line of fire unless the mission is dire and he needs to step in. Plus he's a great strategist so he tends to look after his brothers a lot. Also enjoys sorting through medical equipment with you.

"Take better care if your things, you can't heal anyone if it's all out of order. If you need a helping hand... ouch! That was quite uncalled for, I was only stating my opinion. My hand will be fine, it's only a little burn, I know you've seen much worse, I've seen much worse."

Echo has already been through many medical procedures so yours aren't a big deal for him. Even when he does get hurt he's sure his body can take it. If you need more detailed medical records for him you know he can get them easily. You do your job well so he never worries when he's in your capable hands. It's actually rather enjoyable to be honest.

"I hope I'm not being a bother to you, there's many more soldiers to see. If you want I can stay here for a while, offer up some insight. We can go grab a drink after you're done. To help take your mind off work. Yeah, and mine too. I suppose, we can both use a break."

#the bad batch #the bad batch x reader #hunter x reader #crosshair x reader #wrecker x reader #tech x reader #echo x reader #the bad batch imagine #the bad batch headcanons #the bad batch fluff #star wars x reader #star wars imagine #star wars headcanons #star wars fluff #tbb x reader #tbb imagine #tbb headcanons #tbb fluff

[bliss-in-the-void]

Shibuya arc thoughts: I had an interesting thought while re-reading a certain scene

Spoilers if u aren’t caught up in the manga:

Okay, this:

I always thought that conversation between Kenjaku and Mahito was interesting. The whole concept of their difference in beliefs based off of the proof they both experienced.

Mahito believes that the soul comes before the body because he can transform souls and have them do his bidding as long as he touches a body. It’s instant contact into the soul, and as soon as he alters the shape of the soul, the body changes because the soul takes precedence over the body.

Kenjaku on the other hand believes that the body is the soul and the soul is the body because in his thousand years, not one host body has ever fought him back the way Suguru did to try and save Satoru. He disagrees with Mahito, explaining that the host body’s memories wouldn’t be retained otherwise.

Let’s dissect this a bit.

If a host body was a blank slate and didn’t retain memories, Kenjaku would’ve agreed to Mahito’s conjecture. So, if Suguru had no reaction to Satoru, it would basically prove that once a soul leaves a body, it’s nothing but an empty shell.

But it doesn’t. Suguru does react to Satoru, somehow. Against quite literally all logic. It then challenges Mahito’s beliefs, because a piece of Suguru’s soul is still in the body. It’s not an empty shell. Suguru’s soul didn’t completely leave his body.

But Mahito, who has been through very different experiences, disagrees. He says that their techniques are what makes their perceptions on the matter different.

Kenjaku’s technique involves using his brain (carrier of a soul/consciousness) to take control of a host body. The swapping of souls inside a shell.

Mahito’s technique involves touching a body to take control of a soul. Only then when he changes the shape of a soul does the body change shape too. So to him, souls first, bodies second.

He tells Kenjaku their techniques separate them into two different worlds. Kenjaku replies with “so techniques dictate our worlds, I like that, it’s poetic.”

But the interesting thing is, I don’t actually think they’re disagreeing at all. In fact, I think they’re saying the same thing, just understanding it differently.

Mahito can only change the shape of a body if he touches the soul. That right there shows you that the soul and body are interconnected, like Kenjaku said. You’d think that if souls were completely separate from a body, Mahito’s technique wouldn’t involve the need to physically touch a body. (Even in his domain, where his own soul is all around the opponent, touching their body.)

Maybe the soul does inform the body, but it can never be without it. The body is the soul.

In a way, Satoru was able to replicate Mahito’s domain expansion without needing his cursed technique.

Because his soul could see through the bullshit. And it called out to Suguru. It touched Suguru. It moved him. Their souls somehow made contact.

And something else that I wanted to bring up while reading it.

“Technique dictate our worlds. It’s poetic.”

When I first read it, I was sort of like “…we were just talking about souls and bodies where did this come from?”

And then I thought about it.

How did their techniques affect Satoru and Suguru’s worlds?

At first it brought them together. They were both the strongest. Then it tore them apart.

Suguru’s technique involved him needing to absorb curses. He had to physically ingest them. He had no choice but to take in all of the grime of the world.

Satoru’s technique is the exact opposite. He has Infinity. Nothing can touch him. He’s impermeable. A flick of his finger and the curse is gone, no contact needed.

Is that what Kenjaku meant when he said it was poetic? Because his and Mahito’s techniques are really not all that different. They both use other people’s bodies to do their bidding and bend to their wills as they please. And for that, they work together. But Suguru and Satoru’s techniques were complete opposites and it eventually came between them. Suguru needing to give pieces of himself every time he used it and Satoru remaining untouchable.

It’s almost as if Kenjaku is saying, tauntingly, “maybe if you weren’t so different this situation would never have happened.”

Suguru’s feeble attempt to stop him is for naught. An arm trying to strangle him to no avail can’t do anything to save Satoru. He tried out of love.

But sometimes love really isn’t enough.

#WHEEEEW #losing my mind all over again #satosugu #stsg #jjk meta #jujutsu kaisen meta #shibuya spoilers #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #geto suguru #suguru geto #satoru gojo #jujukai #jjk spoilers #satosugu meta #satosugu analysis #satosugu headcanons

[ivys-garden]

I, like many of yall, have noticed a vocal minority of people showing there support for Wilbursoot, going as far as to attack shubble and her supporters. In this post I'll go through the main points I've seen them argue with and explain why I believe that they are all wrong.

“Shubble was the real abuser” - No. If she was, William would have spoken up. There is no evidence for this, well, that isn't faked or saying one thing is another (like the guy saying a pic of will crying was because of shubble or the guy trying to pass a stream of a completely different girl of as shubble abusing will… live. On stream. Yah, think we would have heard of that before now.)

“She has no proof” - genuinely fuck of. In domestic abuse cases there won't always be hard proof, that's one of the reasons the police struggle to do anything about it. If a wife is struck by a husband and it leaves no mark that doesn't mean it didn't happen “why didn't she show the bruises” have you guys ever been bruised? Bruises heal quickly, and she doesn't have any to show since the allegations came out after their break up, all the bruises would have healed. “Why didn't she take photos at the time?” Look at it this way, if I punch you across the face you will have a lot of thoughts, none of them will be “I should take a photo of this so people belive me what I say it happened”

(Also don't pretend that people wouldn't just say the evidence was fake if she did have pictures)

Oh and she does have evidence, the fact William admitted to it.

“She just did it for attention” - bitch, shubble doesn't need attention she was doing great. Just because you never heard of her didn't mean she was some underground indie youtuber, she didn't need to lie to get attention. Also lying about domestic abuse is not a good way to do this since it's really easy to disprove. The other party would come out instantly to tell everyone the truth. William didn't do that because shubble WAS telling the truth.

“Her story changed” - no. It didn't. Even the idea that she changed whether or not wilbur bruised with the bites or made her bled (both of which are still bad, btw) is made up, she never said that, as was clarified by shubble herself

“She encouraged death threats” - She openly decouraged death threats. Saying she was like: “everyone go and tell people to kill themselves” is literally putting words in her mouth

Also, this by no means goes for everyone, but arguing about death threats while, wilbur hasn't told his supports not to send death threats and that wilburs supporters have been saiding threats to shubble and her fans while condemning the few shubble fans who sent death threats, is kinda stupid

(Also this is by no means the main point but I have seen people who support wilbur literally begging for death threats, soooooooo)

(Oh aslo I was mistaken in the early version where I said shubble had implied that she didn't belive wilbur could change, that was another misconception and I'm sorry for spreading it. Shubble does belive that people can change IF they put in the work to do so)

Also remember, William has not been shown to actually change yet. He still hasn't even given shubble an apology that takes proper accountability, when he does that, apologies to everyone else he's wronged, and puts in the effort to actually be better moving forward, then we can forgive him. But at the moment he has not shown that.

So until then: support shubble. Belive victims. Raise awareness for these issues in the gaming space (this has been going on for a long time). And don't engage with people who make up evidence to support there parasocial relationships, don't send death threats (obviously, because that's wrong) but also don't engage in any other way. This will be my last post on this subject. Move on from William and the support for him will die down when they realise there's no one to disagree with, and then William, Shubble and all of us can move past this and into the future as a (hopefully) better space

#shubble #shelby grace #wilbur soot #shubblesupportsquad #shubble support #shubble situation #wilbur situation

[zzoguri]

familiarity (it’s all sticky) ➵ kim sunwoo

peter parker!kim sunwoo x spiderman!reader

you're not sure why you decide to show up at your ex's place all wounded up from tonight's battle.

genre/warnings ➵ exes (to sort of lovers?), angst, touch of fluff, afab reader (no-gendered terms), hurt/comfort (both physical and emotional), discussions of wounds and depictions of blood, lowercase intended, ghost-spider au (though please don't expect it to be accurate!), reader is obviously spiderman while sunwoo is peter parker i mean HELLO?? i am right, sunwoo is such a slob here, reader's hair is long enough to be tucked behind their ear, i also based everything on google when it comes to patching up wounds omg please don't follow me at all, kissing fingertips, mentions of non-sexual stripping and showering (let him take care of you)

word count ➵ 4k words

taglist ➵ @deoboyznet @kflixnet @blankjournal @winterchimez @miusgirl @jenoscafe @sweet-unicorn-world @vernyangel @mosviqu

playlist ➵ nonviolent communication by metro boomin, james blake, a$ap rocky, & 21 savage // hummingbird by metro boomin & james blake

a/n ➵ i've had this idea for the longest time in my drafts. i'm pretty sure it came to me as i was writing of linked arms and bruised hearts, but i'm glad i took some time to sit down (even in my busy and hell midterms season) to write it :') thank you to my lovely cat @wuahae for beta reading <3 this work is only a fraction of what our friendship truly is, and proof of the care we have for each other. i love you! i also thought it would be in theme to get songs from across the spiderverse ost for the playlist </3 please don't forget to reblog (even if it's in your tbr!)

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! want to request? check out my guidelines! masterlist

new york city never falls silent. the bustle of every new yorker can be heard through their footsteps,  the wheels that glide against the train tracks along with the beeps of taxis sound throughout the city. the metropolis stays alive in every street, every alleyway, every corner. no matter what hour it may be, each pavement is wide awake.

but the lights seem hazy tonight; the luminescence pours out of every building, the led boards are only blurs of silhouettes and illegible words. normally, you would warn against going out if someone could barely make sense of what these signs say, but you never seem to follow your own advice.

as you swing through the city, web clinging onto every building, blood continues to seep through the white spandex that covers you from head to toe. your body feels heavy, the pain in your lower abdomen continuing to spike with every movement—every swing—you make.

you bite on your lip, holding back the whimpers. your eyes dart through every street sign you pass. with every swing, you realize you’re nowhere close to where you should be. instead… 

you don’t allow yourself to think it over. maybe the loss of blood has you moving out of impulse, but for now, you can only think of getting rid of the pain.

you swing around the corner before landing down at the familiar fire escape, paint-chipped and rusted just like you remember. a hiss leaves your mouth as your hand reaches out to the spot where the blood continues to seep through, holding it down to keep pressure on the wound.

you’re face-to-face with the window; the reflection of you all suited up in some persona is a sight you’re accustomed to—but not on the glass of his window. you’re not sure why you came back here, injured in an identity he only knew of through word of mouth.

but the throbbing in your abdomen doesn’t give you enough time to think more about it. pushing the window up, you throw one leg over the edge into the apartment. your eyes quickly scan through the familiar space—a room you once treated as yours.

pillows scattered and bedsheets wrinkled, the walls are littered with the same posters of anime he swears to be the best of all time (though you’d always disagreed), along with his desk, littered with trinkets you haven’t seen since the day you left him—ones that he talked about to you back then with so much joy.

as you attempt to get your other leg over the edge of the window, you yelp at the sharp pain that strikes. “fuck,” you whimper, gasping out a breath. another groan rips out from your throat as you force your leg over, head resting on the frame with closed eyes, bracing yourself through the wave of pain that follows.

as pants continue to leave your mouth, your senses tingle as your ears catch the sound of footsteps on the other side of the room. you attempt to stand up only for another groan to leave your lips, and you realize it’s too late—the door creaks open, revealing the man you haven’t been face-to-face with since you said your farewell months ago.

dressed in an oversized white tee and a pair of black shorts, sunwoo stands with a bag of chips in his hand and disheveled hair, eyes wide and gaping. you can only assume he was fresh from bed.  

“s-spiderman?!” he looks around, noticing the mess that you’re being exposed to. before you can register it, he rushes in, dropping the bag of chips somewhere near the doorway, and tries to tidy his bed. “w-what are you doing here? i think you might’ve entered the wrong room,” he stutters as he attempts to fix his pillows and bedsheets (poorly, if you may say). 

somehow, the sight of sunwoo all frazzled makes you smile behind your mask. the idea of your—no, you mean, this guy all worried about you seeing how untidy he lives makes you chuckle.

but as you laugh, pain shoots through your lower abdomen once more. you cough out before hissing, pressing onto the wound. it takes everything in you to keep your body upright until you feel a pair of hands rest on your shoulders. you look up only to be met with his worried expression.

and you spot the way his eyes trail down to where your hand rests. you’re thankful that the mask could hide the heat that rises to your cheeks.

“oh god, you need that treated,” sunwoo’s eyes snap back up to you, and your breath hitches. even after all these months, he still holds stars in his eyes.

it’s been a while since you last saw him up close. the bags on his under eyes have turned a few shades darker, and you notice an eyelash that rests on his cheek. you don’t think about what you do next, your free hand reaching out to his face, and his breath hitches. once you pick it out, you flick the strand off of your fingers, and that’s when you realize the mistake you committed.

“s-sorry,” you choke out. although you try to keep your voice as low and gruntled as possible, he frowns. he bites the inside of his cheek as his eyes flicker between your masked face and the wound.

“i-i don’t know how to help. i can call for an ambulan—”

you grab onto his arm before he can leave. as you shake your head, he gulps. “i can’t really help you,” he says, but your grip doesn’t falter. with that, he lets out a sigh before kneeling in front of you. his hands find themselves on the ledge, his arms now caging your frail figure. “do you have someone in mind who can help you?”

sunwoo’s question is innocent. you’re sure the last thing he meant was to mock your situation—showing up in a “stranger’s” room unannounced—but it strikes a chord in you.

you haven’t spoken to him since you broke up a few months back. when you’re outside of your suit, you avoid him like the plague. in the hallways of campus, you take any possible route to not cross his. but when you’re covered in your second skin, you find yourself on top of buildings watching him from far away. with the distance, you allow yourself to learn about what he’s been up to since you two last spoke. 

so you don’t know why you sit in front of him all injured and dressed up in white, black, and pink spandex, because you haven’t spoken to him since that day. shame bubbles within you all while reality slowly slips from your fingertips. and the way your body gets heavier with every second that passes has him mumbling profanities.

his hands hold onto you as he makes you lean your weight on the frame of the window. “wait,” he says as he stands up and walks into his bathroom. before you know it, he comes out with a box.

sunwoo finds his spot back in front of you and he opens what he retrieved. as he looks through the supplies of bandages, alcohol, gauze, and more, he says as his eyes flicker up towards you, “i don’t know how much this will help but it’ll do for now.”

and you should be thankful that someone is willing to bandage you up after the rough night you’ve had, but it feels like a lie to have sunwoo be the one to do it, especially when you haven’t told him the truth.

so when he grabs onto the supplies he needs to treat your wound, your free hand reaches for the underside of your mask. his eyes follow where it rests, and he freezes in his tracks. your fingertips curl on the fabric as you take a deep breath.

“you don’t—”

you shake your head, cutting him off, and you close your eyes before pulling off the mask.

you’re afraid to look at the boy kneeling in front of you, for you can only imagine the annoyance—the disgust—that will paint his features. it’s not like you had a choice to show up at his fire escape this one night, but it was your choice to reveal who spiderman really is behind the mask.

a beat passes.

you’re not sure what to do at this moment. what are you supposed to do after a vigilante reveals who they are?

but when you open your eyes, sunwoo looks back at you with an emotion you can’t pinpoint. he averts his eyes, trailing down to your wound. “let me see it,” he whispers.

you gulp, an attempt to clear your throat and thoughts, before letting your hand move away from the puncture. your hand grips the hem of the top of your suit, peeling it upwards to reveal a bloody wound. from the sight, it looks like you were stabbed, but it’s only a deep cut.

he pulls out a piece of cloth, reaching out and pressing it to your wound. you yelp, eyes squeezing shut at the contact.  “i’m sorry, but we need to stop the bleeding a bit more.” it takes everything in you to open your eyes. you’re met with the sight of sunwoo whose face holds a thousand emotions—you can’t identify any of them.

“can you keep pressure on it?” you only nod before you remove your gloves, afraid to touch the wound with fabric covered in grime. you dump your mask and gloves on the space beside you before letting your hand reach to where the cloth is held against. your hand brushes against his for a split second—you retract your hand immediately at the contact with his skin.

at the sudden motion, the cloth against your stomach drops with nothing left to hold it. sunwoo curses in a panic, hand shooting out in an attempt to save it, but you react faster. snatching it mid-fall, you grasp it tightly, placing the cloth back onto your wound. his eyes dart between where your hand rests and your face, a twinge of worry cast on his features, but he doesn’t give you an opportunity to say anything as he stands up quickly and walks back to his bathroom.

you hear the water run for a moment. the noises of the street fill your ears. the lights from outside cascade the floor, hues of yellow and purple filling the room. and then thunder rumbles; it shakes the floorboards. the sounds of raindrops follow, and you feel your back start to get wet from the storm that has entered new york city.

you try to push yourself off the ledge, a groan ripping out of your throat once more. and you’re finally on your feet. but at any moment, it feels like you may collapse.

“wait, wait! what are you doing?” sunwoo exclaims as he rushes out of the bathroom. he quickly grabs hold of you in an attempt to keep you steady. “don’t stand up or that wound might get worse.”

“i-it’s just the rain. i don’t want to leave the window open.” as you turn your torso, another spike strikes where your wound is. the yelp that leaves your mouth has sunwoo grip onto your arm tighter.

“no, just sit. i’ll take care of it,” he says as he brings you to his chair, his hand never leaves your arm. you let out a hiss until your bottom meets the cushion. as soon as your back rests on the chair, you close your eyes for a moment from the pain.

his hand leaves you. you hear the window shut; the car horns and barks from stray animals are now muffled.

when your eyes flutter open, sunwoo crouches in front of you with a wet towel in his hand. “i need to clean it.” you only nod before removing the cloth on your wound. he grabs it from you and places it on his lap.

as he raises the wet towel to your wound, you flinch at the contact. he quickly retracts it and asks, “does it hurt?”

“no, it’s just cold,” you mumble back. he only nods before attempting to clean the area around your wound. while he keeps his eyes on the puncture, your eyes remain on his face; hues of yellow cast upon him.

his skin glows under the city lights—did anyone know about the stars you once carved on it?

“is this why we broke up?” his eyes snap toward yours as he asks that question.

you cannot help but bite the inside of your cheek. “y-yeah,” you choke out.

he hums before his eyes go back down to your injury. “i’m guessing this is why you were distant then, right?”

you don’t bother to speak, letting the silence speak for itself.

he removes the wet towel; the white cloth is covered in patches of red. as he crumples it into a ball, you spot that his white shirt holds splotches of blood as well.

sunwoo stands up to drop the pieces of fabric on the table behind you. “your dad obviously doesn’t know,” he mutters to himself.

it’s a rhetorical question. of course, your father has no clue of your late-night rendezvous. you’re sure he could never look at you the same if he found out because to him, he would never understand what you do. he would see you only as a low-life criminal in the same way the nypd does. 

sunwoo then dabs a cotton ball soaked in betadine on your abdomen. you bite on your lip as a hiss leaves your mouth. “fuck,” you curse, and he only continues to clean up your wound.

silence takes over you two. as he bandages you up, you allow yourself to close your eyes. you were thankful to find rest in these small moments. but you don’t miss the warmth of his fingertips on your skin; they feel just like last time.

“why did you come here?” his question has your eyes snapping open, and you are met with a frown resting on his face.

you bite the inside of your cheek. “i-i don’t know.” it’s a lie—one you both know. you had every chance to change the route you were taking. instead, you chose to go to his place—even if it may be on the other side of where you live.

he lets out a sigh. it’s clear that he’s disappointed by your words, but all he says is “okay,” as he gets up. “you can stay here for the night.” he stands in front of you in a shirt covered in patches of blood—it’s proof that his heart still holds a spot for you.

despite the venom that was laced in your words the night you cut ties with him, he leaves you a space for you to fill. it’s another choice you can make, but one you’re not sure if you should take.

sunwoo walks to the desk behind you and flips the lamp on. you swivel the chair so that you’re face-to-face with his slouched figure. you would’ve scolded him, but you’re not in the place to do so—not after what you two had.

but a part of you wishes to chide those words—hey, keep slouching and your back will get worse—for old time’s sake. it takes everything in you to hold back from saying the reminder, but it takes nothing to let your hand grip the back of his shirt. his movements halt.

as you sit up, you let your face bury into the arch of his back. the scent of his laundry detergent (it’s still the same smell of lavender) fills your nose, and you let your hands trail around his torso until they find their home on his waist. even after all these months, your hands knew where to rest—your spidey senses knew who to go to.

you feel his hands rest on your arms, his thumb drawing circles on your forearm. you breathe at the same pace as him. whenever his shoulders move up, yours follow. and you allow yourself to cherish just this once the familiar warmth of sunwoo. you let your soul mesh with his once more.

with closed eyes, you whisper, “i still look for you.” his thumb stops moving, and a shaky breath leaves your mouth. “i’m here because all i know is you.”

it’s half of a lie, but still a lie nevertheless. you shake your head against his shirt. “no,” you rescind. “i know i shouldn’t be here, and i had every chance to go back home, but,” you take a deep breath. “would you let me, just this once, be honest with you?”

your question hangs in the air—it’s not for him but for you. all the choices you took led to this moment, from embracing the persona you were handed through a single spider bite all the way to removing the mask in front of him.

sunwoo spins to face you. he stands in front of you with the remnants of you covering him, his shirt coated in hues of red and your blood dried up on his hands. the light behind him causes a shadow to paint his face.

but when he kneels once more in front of you, you get a good look at his features. he still looks like the same boy you first met—the same one you fell in love with—but you wonder if he was still the one you knew?

that is until his hand reaches toward your face. you hold your breath as it finds its spot on your cheek. but as his thumb grazes your cheekbone, a trembling breath leaves you. you gulp everything down—your fears and anxieties—so that you can finally be honest with sunwoo.

“i wanted to tell you who i really am.” a flicker of confusion flashes through his eyes. “and i know i’m not doing it in the best state,” a chuckle leaves your mouth. “but with every day that passes, and every injury i need to endure, i didn’t know when i would be able to tell you what went wrong with us.” a beat passes. “what went wrong with me.”

he shakes his head. “nothing’s wrong with you. what are you talking about?” a frown takes over his face. “i mean, you’re spiderman, for god’s sake.” you weren’t able to hold back the giggle that slipped from your lips.

but it wouldn’t be fair to just accept his words as is, not after the damage you’ve caused.

you let a hand rest on his, the one that rests on your cheek, and you curl your fingers so that you hold it. “i’m sorry that this is me.” the whisper is loud enough to fill the silence of his room. “i’m sorry that i crashed here all injured and left you to deal with the mess,” your eyes flicker to his bed. “especially on a night when you were resting.”

as soon as your eyes go back to sunwoo, you notice that he’s biting the inside of his cheek. “why are you telling me this?” it’s an honest question, one he couldn’t figure out the answer to. “we haven’t seen each other since you broke up with me.”

and he has every right to be confused with your sudden appearance. after all the months spent avoiding him in the halls while still seeking him on top of buildings, sunwoo was left with no clue as to why you come to him first in such a dire situation. why is it that you chose to reveal such an intimate part of yourself months after you two have drifted?

“do i have to say it?” you ask.

and he looks back into your eyes before saying, “it’s the least you can do.”

so you grab onto his hand, moving it so that it rests in yours. the sight of his fingers and palms covered in splotches of you fills your heart with warmth. it’s proof of the time he spent to patch you up. no matter who you may be—spiderman or not—you will forever be at his mercy.

“we can’t be together. it will only be another cycle of pain.” for both of you. as your eyes land back on his face, you spot sorrow coating his features.

“but i still do.” it’s an unfinished thought on his end. despite the frown you show, all he does is flash you a bitter smile. “i always have and always will.”

and it clicks.

“n-no, sunwoo,” you shake your head. “you can’t.”

he brings your hand close to his lips, letting it linger for a moment. “but you do,” he whispers into your fingertips. “right?”

even after revealing who spiderman truly is behind the mask, you expect sunwoo to rethink everything he knows. the months spent away from you should be enough reason to reconsider how much he knows of you now. but even if you two were to spend years apart, he would still read you as well as he does now. 

“i can’t,” you choke out. “i can only offer so much, and you deserve so much more.”

he smiles at you—the same one you used to see every day, no matter what time of the day it may be—as his free hand reaches for your hair, tucking it behind your ear.

“i couldn’t care any less.”

you shake your head. it’s clear he doesn’t understand the gravity of it all; to be with you means to remain in constant danger. “no, sunwoo. you don’t understand. i broke up with you because i’m batshit scared of what will happen to you.”

because it seems to always occur—anyone you come close to becomes another target for your enemies. it’s already hard enough to handle the responsibility of being a masked hero, but you don’t think you could handle a possibility where sunwoo’s death would be on your hands.

but all he does is shake his head and says, “i don’t care. i still love you.”

you haven’t heard him say that to you in months. such a simple phrase causes warmth to fill your limbs and heat to rise to your cheeks. he still has the same effect on you after so long.

there are consequences that this conversation bears. you should have stood up and left as soon as he patched you up. it should’ve been obvious that the longer you stayed, the more you would pour out sentiments that you tried to keep under wraps—under the mask—and it seemed that sunwoo knew how to undo them even better than he did then.

and hearing sunwoo say those words has you falling into a perpetual cycle of torment, one that makes every day intolerable for you can only watch him from afar. but aren’t you already living it the more you deny what’s in front of you two?

so you only nod, and bring his hand close so you can feel his fingertips on your lips. with closed eyes, you whisper, “okay.”

it’s a testament to everything—one to his offer to let you sleep in this very room you once treated as yours, one to his confession that tilted your world’s axis, one to the very situation you’re in—and you’re sure he knows it, too.

he smiles as soon as your eyes flutter open. “let’s go to sleep.”

you know that sleep meant to be wrapped in his arms all while he would leave kisses on your temple. you don’t remember the last time you got enough rest, but you remember that the last time you slept in sunwoo’s arms was the last one you were able to fall into slumber at ease.

so you nod, allowing him to help you out of the chair. and he helps you through it all—shedding the suit off of you, cleaning you of all the grime from tonight’s adventure, and getting dressed in fresh clothes—until you two find your place on his bed.

nothing is said for the rest of the night. for once, you drift into slumber without any secrets stashed away.

if you enjoyed reading this, please do reblog!

#deoboyznet #kflixnet #bjnet #k-labels #kim sunwoo #the boyz #the boyz x reader #kim sunwoo x reader #the boyz imagines #kim sunwoo imagines #kim sunwoo angst #kim sunwoo fluff #zzoguri works

[ro55ocorsa]

i love the carlos theory, but is there evidence??

we must see - for scientific purposes, of course 👀

Apologies at how long it has taken me to prove my theory, but I come bearing proof of Carlos' twinkishness! Firstly, we must consider the definition of twink. This is what wikipedia describes a twink as:

So how does this apply to Carlos? First, let's focus on having a slim physique. Carlos definitely fits this descriptor. I know a lot of you will think I am crazy. 'But Carlos is buff!' You will say. However, this is a misconception. Consider the following;

See how skinny his upper body is compared to his race suit? In the bottom image you can see its like a centimetre or two thick fabric which pads him out a bit. I think the video of him walking to the podium after Miami 2022 really exemplifies this:

I think because we usually see Carlos in a race suit, we perceive him as bulkier. Not convinced by this alone? Lets actually compare him to an F1 driver usually called a twink, Charles.

See how they're actually about the same size and body shape? If anything, Carlos has a slimmer waist than Charles, and both are about the same in terms of muscle. Lets compare him with an F1 driver not considered a twink by the masses, Pierre in terms of muscle:

Carlos is pretty bulky arm wise, but just look at how crazy huge and defined Pierre's muscles are. If you look at more pictures of Pierre he's much bigger than Carlos or Charles in size. Look at this guy!

So if Carlos is closer to Charles, a known twink, than Pierre, i think its safe to say he is much more twinkish than we give him credit for. But i'm not even done. Carlos has in fact been DECEIVING you by being an athlete and having muscles, under all that he is built like a twig. You can see this when he was younger. Look at this. If you're willing to do some digging back to his karting days, you can see before he started lifting he was weirdly long and built fairly skinny.

So that completes the 'slim' part. Next is youthful appearance/age. Carlos is nearly 30, but as Wikipedia states you don't have to be an older teen or in your early twenties to be a twink. It's about the presentation, and Carlos certainly fits that youthful vibe with his always messy hair, toothy smile, and big eyes. He also likes to rough house and push people around as a sign of affection, which just screams young guy to me lol.

Next is body hair. I admit my theory hits a slight snag here, as we all know Carlos is hairy af. However, we also all know he's dedicated to waxing every last piece of chest hair off. It's harder to find a picture of a hairy Carlos compared to the many pictures of him with no body hair at all. So I think we can say he's pushing himself towards a twink vibe with this. (below picture isn't the best to illustrate how much he shaves his chest i just think its funny)

Finally, flamboyancy. Defined as 'tending to attract attention because of their exuberance, confidence, and stylishness.' This is Carlos to a T. He's always confident, perhaps not super 'stylish' but he does have a good dress sense and seems to know what clothes suit him, and he's been proven to be quite excitable and exuberant when hanging out with friends. I think his hypercompetitiveness shows this as well. Is this picture not the epitome of careless confidence and flamboyance?

So. There is my evidence. Agree or disagree as you will. I will say he is probably more a twunk than all out twink, but he for sure has some twink in him. Here's a few last pictures to really try and convince you, but for now, ciao.

#the fact that i spent like 40 minutes proving why Carlos is a twink and not studying is probably why i failed one of my exams #f1 #formula 1 #carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr #f1blr #charles leclerc #pierre gasly

[monigeko]

Alright guys, back through the ringer. I’ve not been a GeorgeNotFound fan in a long while, so this is easier for me then Wilbur Soot but again, making a statement.

Caitibugzz went on stream to tell her story about a sexual assault she experienced from an older CC when she was 18, like Shubble she did not name names, but there is a case building against GeorgeNotFound (ex. him matching the age she described, and her best friend Rue on twitter liking a post that said it was likely gnf)

While there is no explicit proof that it is him she’s talking about, this mirrors the Wilbur situation closely so I am more inclined than ever to believe the signs until official confirmation is made otherwise. Support victims, a lot of people are trying to discredit her, and spread hate against people saying it’s George. Well people said it wasn’t Wilbur, and it ended up being him.

Again, I don’t have much of an emotional stake in this, since i’m not a fan currently, and I certainly have STRONG feelings about some of the things he’s said and done in the past, but I still want to take a very strong stand in support for Caiti because sexual abuse is a crime beyond just making some shitty comments on the internet and having bad takes i disagree with and if it is George it should be handled seriously.

I will be waiting for an official statement, and I do not think sending direct hate to George, like any death threats, is going to be productive. We should all still make sure not to support him or his content right now too. It’s better to be safe, than sorry. If you are a fan, take the time to mentally prepare yourself for that disconnect, because if it does end up being him it’ll save you some heartache in the future. You can always reignite your support of him if it turns out to be someone different, but it’s better to stop support sooner rather than later if he does truly get outed as a super shitty person.

#moni thoughts #georgenotfound #caitibugzz #support victims

[monstersw1thv1bes]

so guys how are we feeling? i have a few things to say. my thoughts, in no particular order:

steven said very, very little. ryan and Shane were mostly speaking. but honestly with the hate he's been receiving? i don't blame him. nobody had any proof Steven made the decision on his own and yet the internet unanimously decided thats what happened.

saying you're close to shutting down the company when you've literally just hired new people you didn't need? i mean, that doesn't necessarily mean it's a lie, but it shows very, very poor management at the least.

they need to hire less creative people rn. hire someone to run finance. hire someone to run marketing. hire people who actually know what the fuck they're doing when it comes to making sure a business thrives if you're going to hire new people at all.

you want to be a business, you need to stop thinking like a youtube channel. this is why you can't just start a company with your friends if none of you have business experience in this day and age.

unfortunately when you run a business, you have to lay off people you don't need sometimes. better yet: train people you don't need to do the job you want to hire somebody else to do (my boss does this so you can't tell me it doesn't work). loyalty to your employees breeds loyalty to your company, but you can't just let people keep doing something you don't need them to do if you want to run a succesful business.

if you can't pay your staff, why can you drop 55k on your wedding?

if you can't pay your staff, why can you afford to travel abroad and eat literal gold?

if you can't pay your staff, why are you compromising on your integrity instead of literally any of the expensive things your company is doing?

i love how they didn't once adress that they could literally save money by dropping the shows nobody wants to see. if you have so many loyal fans and some of your shows aren't doing well, you can't just blame the youtube algorithm: that is people actively making a choice not to watch something.

they didn't say anything about the high quality production of shows, either. they would have been completely in their right to say "our goal was always to produce TV-quality content and while we know you guys don't need that from us, we don't want to compromise on that goal" (even though I disagree on them always needing that quality, i would have accepted such a statement) but i feel like not mentioning it at all makes the video feel more like damage control than them actually listening to their fans.

the changes they've now made should have been how they went about this from the start if they were dead set on a streaming service.

i'm curious to see how others respond to this. to me it genuinely does feel like damage control. i'm probably not going to watch them anymore. we'll see how i feel when new content does make it to the plebs who get to watch it for free /j.

#watcher #ryan bergara #shane madej #steven lim

[freakbullet]

so this video (it's pretty good, worth a watch) basically saved me having to clean up the big word salad post I was drafting but I'm gonna reiterate a few points -

firstly, this isn't mentioned in the video but I think it's so, so important: unlike the valentine author, Gaster has never, ever used a single contraction. Toriel is another character who never uses them, no matter how casual the context. for something like this to suddenly change for no reason makes no sense. Toby is meticulous. I genuinely believe this is a HUGE strike against it being Gaster, yet almost no one mentions it. next, the valentine author speaks as if they don't know us: "you seem reliable", "you are very odd". and as we know, Gaster's well acquainted with us by now, so it'd make no sense for him to speak to us this way. (but what it does lend credence to is this being a character we either haven't met before, or haven't extensively interacted with.) additionally, in all instances so far, Gaster's been keen, focused, sharp. why would he suddenly be so addled and confused? the author saying they forgot who they're supposed to help, and it possibly even being themself, doesn't point to Gaster either - in fact, just the opposite - because the idea of him being forgotten is pure fanon. the game explicitly states that Asgore took so long to hire a new royal scientist because Dr. Gaster's brilliance was irreplaceable. how would the king know that if he didn't remember? fictional characters, by their very nature, are presented to us in a deliberate and finite way; our interactions with them have specific purpose. this means that when we try to hold them to real-world standards like "I, a real live person, write differently depending on the occasion", it won't always hold up. we have to go by what precedents have already been set by the creator, in the context in which these characters exist. on occasions when characters in UT/DR have spoken in a different way than usual, the fundamental, anchoring traits of their speech still remain intact (see: contractions), which would not be the case if Gaster were the valentine author.

(and of course, this doesn't even touch on the Japanese translation highlighting how wildly different the speech styles are, which I personally put more stock in than they do in the video.) the last 3rd of the video is more opinion/headcanon-oriented but he makes his point well. even if you disagree with his perception of Gaster (I do to an extent), it's true that there's already no shortage of whimsical, silly, lighthearted characters in UT/DR, and surely, if Gaster were meant to be one of them, Toby wouldn't reveal it in a way that's so out of left field. I love silly goofy wingding man as much as the next guy, but I also agree that attributing this personality to him out of nowhere, when it's incongruent with everything we've seen so far, would only serve to undermine his character and the uniqueness of it. none of this is to knock anyone whose opinion differs from mine! I'm just laying my thoughts out, for whatever that's worth. I've seen an unfortunate tendency in the community to lump the valentine in with the tweets and gonermaker text as all being on the same level of "obviously Gaster", and then tout it as proof that their headcanons are real. (we all have our headcanons! just don't be a dick about it eh?) at the end of the day, personally, I try to absorb and cling to as much canon evidence as possible, scant though it may be. because what I really really want, is to know who Gaster is. in the truest sense, as he is intended to be by his creator.

(but isn't it wonderful how much we all love this character, no matter how differently we may see him? I mean ultimately if we're not having fun here, then what's the point, right?)

but yeah, give the vid a watch! it goes into more detail and makes more compelling points than my sleepless brain can atm. :p

#all this said i absolutely love all the adorable gaster fanart that came out of it 😢🖤 #plus the renewed interest in discussion and theories in the fandom is really fun #gaster #long post #freak speak #the great valentine debateTM #edited this after a nap to hopefully be more coherent

[queerofthedagger]

I'm really curious about the Uther things you mentioned?

Ahh hey! Yeah I can talk on that a bit (for context, I think I said that I do find his character intriguing and that my opinion on him has evolved quite a bit, influenced by mostly disagreeing with what a lot of people tend to say?)

So the thing about Uther is that I feel people tend to either go "He's evil, everything he does at any given time is evil, I hate him and there is nothing more to it," or they go "Oh but he loved his children!!!" in a kind of, redeeming-quality-kind of sense. I'm somewhat hyperbolizing, of course, but I do think fandom tends to a very black and white view.

Don't get me wrong, I hate Uther. I hate Uther with a burning passion, and I love to hate him. He's terrible. But I do think the show actually did go to quite an effort to make him complex beyond a simple "tyrannical son of a bitch" (that he was) or "Oh okay but he loved Ygraine and his kids 🥺" (which he did!).

Of course he is terrible. He murdered hundreds if not thousands of people over the guilt he could not bear to live with, that was, in the first place, the consequence of his own actions. I do believe he didn't know that the price would be Ygraine's life; he was still willing to sacrifice someone's life. Which is very Uther. Yes, at the root of that lies grief, and at the root of grief lies love, but the thing (and also imo the crux of Uther's character) is that being capable of loving people doesn't somehow, magically (ha. sorry) make you less of a bad person.

Terrible people can love other people. In fact, I think you'd be hard-pressed to find people no matter how atrocious their actions, who don't have people they love. And most people don't set out to "do something evil;" Uther, in all his atrocities, always had justifications to himself.

I think it says a lot that despite the brutal war he wrought, he was by and large not considered a bad king, per se, by his people and allies. We could dismiss all those instances where the show makes a point to reiterate this as fear of speaking up - and I'm not saying that didn't play a part - but I think that's making it too easy. There is a whole other essay on propaganda and how the war on magic worked, but I'll get to that another time. My main point is that, as uncomfortable as the thought may be considering just what horrors he wrought, he wasn't a frothing, mad bag full of cartoonish evil.

That doesn't mean that he "wasn't that bad, really." Which kind of brings me to the other side of things, the way people like to throw "Well, but he loved his kids," into the mix as a kind of. I don't know, counterpoint to the "tyrannical son of a bitch" side. And like, the thing is, he did. The thing is, that doesn't change a thing.

Yeah, Uther loved both Arthur and Morgana. We see enough proof of that through the seasons, whether it's in the Excalibur Episode where he fights in Arthur's stead at any cost, or in Le Morte d'Arthur where he openly weeps, or with Morgana in various instances to a degree where some people think he loved her more (and again, yet another essay on how his love for Arthur is tangled up so much in his guilt and the hatred that caused, but I digresss), not least in how her 'betrayal' broke him.

Ultimately, though, he also put Arthur in harm's way again and again. He certainly rarely ever told him he loved him, to the point where Arthur is shocked to hear it. He puts his children in chains and locks them away and drugs them and threatens them in all manners, he lies to them and hides the truth from them (Ygraine/Morgana's parentage in the first place) to the detriment of their well-being, and so on. His love is conditional. His love demands obedience and submission. We could argue until we're blue if that's really love in the first place, but at the end of the day, it doesn't really matter all that much.

People can love other people, and it can be entirely inconsequential, because frankly, most parents love/"love" their kids. That doesn't mean they're automatically good parents, or even good people. In Uther's case it really isn't a redeeming quality at all. It just makes him complex and interesting and multi-dimensional as the villain/antagonist. Because it makes us grapple with the really very unfortunate but inevitable fact that even terrible people are still people. They aren't some removed monster that no one can ever relate to. They love and they laugh and grieve, and they can still turn around and burn people in their frontyard on the daily without missing a beat. They can be willing to die for their children and threaten violence and exile in the next breath.

I think with Uther, at the end of the day, for me it's really both. His atrocities started out of love, and his love is steeped, inevitably, in the violence and twisted moral framework of his character; it's not an either/or thing at all, it depends on each other. And he is a goddamn son of a bitch, of course, even if every once in a bluemoon he still sheds honest tears for his unfortunate children.

#answered asks #mona rambles #tansyuduri #bbcm #merlin meta #uther pendragon #this got so long and I'm not even sure it's super coherent but yk. feel free to ask clarifying questions if you wanna lmao <3 #mona's rambling

[utilitycaster]

So. I finally watched last Thursday`s episode. If youd rather just tell me to go look it up myself, I totally get it, but I dont get the Big Deal with Orym supposedly Going Dark?? Like. He is right. They ARE at war and its time that they put aside the Are the Prime Deities Good (they are, we as an audience have canonical proof of it through 2 main campaigns and Calamity) debate and get behind Ashton`s `The Ruby Vanguard is willing to kill anyone, and thats too dangerous to allow` mindset.

Hey anon!

So I can't speak for people who are saying this, since naturally I disagree, but my suspicions are that it's largely coming from people who were hoping for the campaign to more explicitly affirm their personal politics or ideals and are upset that a heroic fantasy D&D show set in a world with very different norms...continues to be set there, and the characters and stories carry out those norms. It's always been a problem, that some people do not like to acknowledge how different Exandria is from 21st century Earth not just in like, there's elves and magic, but in social mores, and this was a jarring reminder to them.

But I agree that this is Orym affirming Ashton's mindset. I also agree that while we have canonical proof from past works, it's best to craft an argument that doesn't rest of that. It does not matter that we know the prime deities' alignments or how they've acted towards past PCs or more generally whether you do or do not like the idea of a world with gods in it. You have one group who is preying on desperate people to the point that one of those people, when confronted but not injured by people who made him feel like he belonged, nearly killed one of them, and who has murdered and destroyed the minds of anyone in their way; and you have a group that is trying to stop them. Orym is just affirming that he is, absolutely part of the group trying to stop them.

Someone asked me last week what the point of the split was, and I said we couldn't really tell until it was over, but I think it served to show the human side of what had been this grand, overwhelming plan, and what the work might be, if Bells Hells can successfully stop them.

Team Wildemount did see more of the macro level - the destruction of Molaesmyr, the gods calling upon FCG and Deanna - but they also saw the survivors of Molaesmyr in Uthodurn, still morning the destruction of their home almost 300 years ago. We saw Umudara, who can't go home. We saw the infrastructure of Uthodurn break as enchantments failed. We saw clerics and followers of gods feeling terrified and lost. We saw people who were absolutely not involved in pain because of Ludinus and the Vanguard's actions.

Team Issylra, meanwhile, saw what kind of people might be drawn into the Vanguard and Ludinus's words - people dealing with oppression in the name of the gods, and people who have suffered faith-shattering tragedies. I think it's an important element of the story, since we've mostly dealt with high-level people (Otohan, Ludinus, Liliana) and only had a few tussles at the Malleus Key.

Essentially, this all served to say "gods aside, Ludinus, as head and founder of the Ruby Vanguard, is exploiting the oppressed instead of freeing them." Because do you know what would have happened had Hearthdell attacked Kiro on their own? This would have been a bloodbath, and a village would be wiped off the map, because some asshole with a magic microphone is entirely happy to use them up and discard them. What if Bor'Dor hadn't been recruited? What if he just got teleported as just a con man in the Cyrios Mountains, and he came across the party? Ludinus never actually stopped wearing that magic funnel, he just changed the methodology.

I think, similarly, the moment with the locket isn't "I shall become a killing machine." Remember how Ashton said the guy with the locket probably didn't have a family anymore? Orym is, in fact, in my opinion, looking at that, and at Bor'Dor, and saying "I'm not going to become this, despite my own losses and grief, and I'm going to stop it from happening to more people, and the path to that might be difficult and require some actions I wish I didn't have to do but which must be done." And I think Hearthdell shows that there will be work to be done if they stop Ludinus; that the next step is to make sure that worshipers of the gods truly do leave other people alone to live their lives in the places where they're genuinely overstepping and engaging in oppression.

My final thought is that there was a lot of discussion during these arcs that there be someone more unambiguously in favor of the gods, and with all of the above, I think that it worked out beautifully that there wasn't, and that we can stop focusing on the gods and start focusing on the people.

#answered #Anonymous #critical role

[thelordofgifs]

In Defence of the Sons of Fëanor

Wait, again? Yes, always. But not anything really bad! Kinslaying, I hope we can agree, is pretty indefensible. But an accusation I often see levelled against the younger sons - that they failed to rescue Maedhros from Angband out of cowardice/stupidity - is bugging me. So! Before I get a fandom reputation as "the Gil-galad poster", I thought I might write something about a character I actually care about - Maglor! Also his younger brothers, but Maglor is the one I’m particularly invested in defending.

In fic (particularly a lot of Russingon fic) the views I tend to see expressed by characters, and backed up by the narrative, go something like "The Fëanorions heartlessly refused Morgoth's offer to release Maedhros and left their brother to torture for thirty years! Dangling from a cliff in full view of their camp! But then heroic Fingon showed up and immediately rescued him with nothing more than a bow and a harp - he barely even stopped to eat first!"

Firstly, I obviously understand that views expressed by the characters are not that of the author. It is absolutely valid for Fingon to accuse the Fëanorions of cowardice, and completely in-character for Maglor to feel incredibly guilty about not rescuing Maedhros (and in fact a pretty essential part of their dynamic, in my opinion). My issue is with fics that very much imply that this view is the Only Correct One. There are a lot of things Maglor does wrong over the course of the Silm. This is not one of them.

Beginning with the refusal to surrender to Morgoth in exchange for Maedhros’ release - I hope nobody seriously considers this a bad decision? A crushing one, certainly. You can write really sad fic about this (I plan to). But the Noldor had just received an excellent lesson in why trusting Morgoth to parley was a bad idea. They had no reason to believe that Morgoth would actually release Maedhros if they surrendered - which is correct. He wouldn’t have. The published Silm adds, “and they were constrained also by their oath” - incidentally, a fairly compelling point of evidence in favour of the oath being binding in nature to some extent, but not the point here. The point here is that they couldn’t have surrendered to Morgoth, and shouldn’t have anyway.

So, with that out of the way, we can accept that what Maglor et al are being accused of is not refusing to parley with Morgoth, but failing to mount an independent rescue mission.

(Incidentally, it’s generally assumed that Maglor, the second-eldest brother, was the one in charge during Maedhros’ captivity. I usually subscribe to this myself, but I would also like to note that Maglor is not once named during the description of these events. It’s always “the sons of Fëanor”, as a unit. You could make a pretty strong case that they were deciding things together, or even that one of his younger brothers had usurped him somewhat - C&C have form in that area…)

Actually before I move on from Morgoth’s proposed deal, an important question: did Maedhros’ brothers know that he was alive? According to (I think) the Grey Annals, Maedhros was captured in YT 1497, and suspended from Thangorodrim in YT 1498 - presumably after his brothers had refused Morgoth’s offer. That’s potentially around 10 years in which they heard nothing, before Morgoth makes them the offer! Perhaps they reasoned that Morgoth wouldn’t have put such a valuable prisoner to death; perhaps not. It’s doubtful they were offered actual proof that Maedhros was alive, at any rate.

“Sure,” you might say, “but they definitely knew he was alive once they could see him suspended from Thangorodrim!” I can’t actually express how strongly I disagree with this common headcanon. The Fëanorions couldn’t see Maedhros on the cliff! Where did people get this idea from? I presume it’s because of Legolas’ various physics-defying feats of eyesight in LoTR. I would like to make the argument here that there’s no reason to assume Noldor accustomed to the light of the Trees could see as well in the starlight as a Silvan Elf of shadowed Mirkwood, but that’s not really necessary. There’s much stronger evidence pointing clearly to the fact that Maedhros wasn’t visible: Fingolfin’s host marches right up to the gates of Angband and nobody notices him. He even yells for help, and they don’t hear him! There is no way that anyone knew he was there (and the Sun had risen by this stage, too. If he was visible, they’d have seen him.) I’m allergic to geography, so don’t take my word on this, but my understanding is that Thangorodrim is a whole little mountain range or something, not like a single cliff. As additional support for this, Fingon gets lost on his eventual rescue mission (in which he’s trying to break into Angband itself, because that’s where he thinks Maedhros is) and only finds Maedhros when he hears him singing. The Fëanorions were absolutely not spending thirty years going “ooh look clear day today! Give Nelyo a wave!”

The next thing to tackle is the odd implication that rescuing Maedhros was really easy, actually, and his brothers were cowards for not even attempting it. Not only do I think this untrue, I don’t see why you’d want it to be true? Fingon’s rescue of Maedhros is one of the best parts of the silm. It’s moving because Fingon is so so brave, and he’s brave because what he attempted was impossible. There is seriously NO reason why that should have worked, and that’s what’s wonderful about it. Suggesting that Maedhros’ brothers held back from attempting a rescue because of cowardice or not caring about him, and not because it couldn’t be done, imo really devalues the magnitude of Fingon’s act of grace.

On a more practical level, nothing about the description of the rescue mission suggests it was easy and anyone could have done it? I genuinely hate to make this joke but… one does not simply walk into Angband. Fingon is specifically described as “aided by the very darkness that Morgoth had made” - a darkness which, you recall, he had made in response to the light of the new Sun. If you’d tried to walk up to Thangorodrim before Morgoth had made his smog, you’d have been caught! There were orcs there! And probably all manner of other fell beasties! Maedhros absolutely couldn’t have been rescued before the rising of the Sun, and specifically Morgoth’s response to it.

A final point - the somewhat common claim that Fingon immediately, the instant he learned what had befallen Maedhros, set out to rescue him, and didn’t even stop to like, brush his teeth first. This is a nice image! The Russingon feels are unparalleled! Unfortunately, I don’t think the text backs it up. The published silm states that Fingon went to Angband “resolved to heal the feud that divided the Noldor”. This rather strongly implies that Fingon only left on his mission some time after he arrived at Mithrim, since there was clearly time for tensions to arise between the two hosts. One of the Annals (Grey or of Beleriand? I get them mixed up - at any rate, the timeline on Tolkien Gateway) puts this in even starker terms, stating that Fingolfin’s host arrived at Mithrim in Year 2 of the Sun, and Fingon rescued Maedhros in Year 5. That’s three years of waiting around before he set out! Now, you could headcanon that maybe Maglor et al told Fingon that Maedhros was dead, and he only later learned that they meant “captured and we never found a body” - but it’s also possible that he knew Maedhros was a captive the entire time, and still didn’t do anything. Three years is obviously not the same as thirty, but I find this detail interesting even so. It rather muddies the dichotomy of “Maedhros’ brothers didn’t care enough to rescue him, Fingon immediately saved him” that I often see.

tl;dr the Fëanorions weren’t cowards who didn’t love their brother, they were sensible and it’s tragic.

Right I hope that was a fairly measured and reasonable post (it was supposed to be at any rate) so now I can very quickly say how DARE you imply that Maglor didn’t love Maedhros consider how close he settles to Himring consider how he’s the only one Maedhros brings with him to the Mereth Aderthad consider their last debate ie the most heartbreaking dialogue in the entire book consider how he’s right and yet he still follows Maedhros in stealing the Silmarils consider how he only finally breaks after Maedhros’ death you can pry that tender loving codependent relationship from my COLD DEAD HANDS ok I’m normal now :)

#silmarillion #meta #my meta #maglor #maedhros #fingon #the line of miriel #accuse my poor little meow meow of crimes! #but accuse him of the right crimes at least #this is mostly directed at an imaginary person who claimed all these things #since they’re most commonly arguments I see separately #but I decided to rebut them all together

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

It just rubs me wrong every time whenever anyone says "Azula treated Mai as an equal". The whole point between Azula's relationship with her friends was that they were done with the power dynamics and Azula having the upper hand in it. Even if the show did a poor job showing it with Mai.

"I love Zuko more than I fear you." - Totally the words of someone who has been treated as an equal.

I FULLY disagree with the notion that the show did a poor job showing Azula didn't treat Mai as an equal. Sure, it didn't beat us over the head with the information, but it was not always that subtle.

The first thing Mai says to Azula is "please say you're here to kill me", and when talking to Ty Lee she's clearly confused as to what the hell the girl is even doing since she said the circus was her calling, getting only a "Azula called a little louder" as a response. To me, that is the show reminding us that, yes, Mai chose to join Azula willingly, but if she had said no like Ty Lee did, Azula would force her to join anyway.

There's also Mai and Azula exchanging a look after Azula says they shouldn't trade a king for a baby, and while it's never explained what was going through Mai's head at the moment, one could interpret it as Azula challenging or full on threatening Mai into putting the mission before her family.

More importantly, in The Drill, when Mai refuses to obey Azula, she says "she can shoot all the lightning she wants at me", and this time there is zero indication of it being a joke or exageration.

When Azula interrupts Mai's date with Zuko to talk to him by finding a dumb excuse to send her away, Mai is visibly pissed off and even side-eyes Azula because come on, couldn't talk to him later or politely ask Mai to give them a moment?

Finally, we have the beach, in which Mai full on screams at everyone, Azula very much included, to just leave her alone.

The show made it very clear fromt he begining that the bitter end of Azula's friendships was inevitable due to the huge power imbalance. Fans don't deny that because of issues in the writting, they do it because they fit in one of three category:

1 - Fan that likes the IDEA of Azula, but not the actual character, and is uncomfortable with the fact that she did bad things, so instead of trying to imagine a healing/redemption arc, they just pretend stuff like her using fear to keep Mai and Ty Lee under her thumb didn't happen in the first place.

2 - Fan (usually a zutara shipper) that HATES Mai and doesn't want to acknowledge things like her troubled family life and unhealthy dynamic with Azula because they cast a more sympathetic light on her and give her understandable motivations for doing bad things.

3 - The typical atla fan that cannot understand any kind of complex situation. They see Mai willingly joining Azula and ignore all the other issues in their relationship, as well as being CONVINCED, for no fucking reason, that this means Azula would not have coerced Mai into joining her had she said no like Ty Lee did. I've said it a million times, and I'll say it a million more: if Zuko didn't have the proof of his abuse at the hands of Ozai burned into his face, there'd absolutely be fans of the show claiming Zuko wasn't abused at all and that people who claim otherwise just want to justify liking an evil character.

#mai meta #mai deserved better