#idk Exactly how it ends but i . i know it is not good.
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do you believe me now? | 4
in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader are interrupted at the most inopportune of times. he calls you on the first night of his case. dirty talk turns into a hard conversation. we get a glimpse into spencer's past, and we finally learn why he's so hesitant to sleep with you.
part one | part two | bonus chapter | part three
18+ (smut)
warnings/tags: dirty talk, phone sex/mutual masturbation, softdom!spence, obligatory he talks u through it, lots of graphic discussions of sex, established relationship, angst (sorrryyy!)
a/n: so remember how i said you'd need the bonus chapter to fully appreciate/understand this part? i was wrong!! it will come in handy probably in the next part tho:) also idk how these parts keep getting so long im sorry! anyway, i love you all so bad. thank you for bearing w/ my craziness. PLEASE let me know your thoughts on this part!! i adore hearing from you!! kisses
(also special thank you to @fliesforeyes who convinced me phone sex w/ spence could be done!! i will link his phone sex blurb here :)) thank u binx!!
“Three million six hundred eighty four thousand three hundred thirty two times fourteen million seven hundred sixty one thousand nine hundred seventy one.”
You’ve lost count of how many stupid math questions you’ve asked your human calculator boyfriend, just to see if he can actually do them. Spencer is silent for a second, and you think you’ve finally stumped him.
“That one is complicated.”
You sit bolt upright in his bed, looking down at him and pointing an accusatory finger. His brows raise at the manic look in your eye.
“You don’t know.”
“I do know. I meant it would be hard to explain if you aren’t a math person.”
“Bullshit!” You scoff, “you don’t know!”
“It would display on a calculator as five-point-three-eight-eight-E-thirteen. It’s a really big number.”
“Oh, really big, huh?” you mumble, searching for your phone blindly in the sheets and scrambling to open the calculator app. “Um… what numbers did I say?”
Spencer repeats them back to you and you press the equals sign.
You look at it.
And then you set your phone down.
“I was right, huh?” he smiles up at you, probably reveling in your pouty wrongness.
Too proud to admit it, you collapse on top of him, burying your face in his shoulder.
“I don’t like this game anymore. What the fuck even is an e? Why are we doing algebra?”
Spencer laughs, brushing your hair aside.
“The e stands for exponent. It’s to the power of ten.”
“Ever heard of a rhetorical question?”
“Yes, I have.”
It’s hard not to snort even at his dumbest jokes.
“You’re annoying. Let’s do something else.”
You roll over onto your back again, letting your head flop over to look at Spencer, whose hair is exactly the right amount of messy after a long day, falling in impossibly soft waves over the perfect lines and contours of his face. Despite lounging, he’s still in his suit from work—he’d left Quantico and immediately picked you up. There were no solid plans for the evening, so after both of you pretended that you wanted to go out for a while, you ended up back at his apartment.
He looks good. Almost too good.
“Something like what?” he smiles lazily, reaching over and tracing his fingers over your cheek.
“Something… naked?”
His grin widens and he shakes his head.
“Me naked or you naked?”
Pretending to think about it, you roll your bottom lip between your teeth.
“Mm… why not both?”
“Hm. Why do I feel like I know where this is going?”
The mattress sinks underneath your elbow as you prop yourself up, dropping your head over Spencer’s to kiss him.
“Because you’re so smart, and you think it’s a great idea.”
He entertains your kiss for a moment. Just a moment.
“You sound sure of yourself.”
“Because I am!” You finally give in to your impulses, tangling your fingers in his hair and looking at him meaningfully. “It doesn’t make any sense for us to have not had sex. I don’t care about any of your weird, cryptic moral reasoning.”
He grabs your wrist carefully.
“It is not moral,” he scoffs. “We haven’t even talked about it yet.”
“Really? Because I feel like we’ve talked about it a lot.”
He begins to reply, but you realize you don’t want to get into a debate over whether you’ve technically talked about it yet. “I don’t even care! If that’s all that’s standing in your way, then let’s talk about it. Right now.”
Spencer sighs, his eyes darting between yours as he reaches up to cradle your cheek.
“Fine. But I have things to say you’re not going to like.”
“So business as usual?”
He rolls his eyes. You allow yourself a tiny self-satisfied smirk, forever relishing in his poorly-hidden soft spot for your constant teasing. Spencer ignores this. Which is probably for the best.
“I know you probably won’t see it this way, but—sex is different than everything else we’ve done so far. It can be really fun, obviously it feels good, it facilitates deeper feelings of connection—that’s all true. Which is why, in my opinion, it’s incredibly important that you be selective with who you sleep with. Because it’s so easy to do something you regret, and sex is vulnerable. It should always be with someone you trust and—and… care about.”
A pink flush stains his cheeks like watercolor as he stumbles over the last few words. It makes your heart flutter against the confines of your chest.
Maybe best not to think about the absence versus presence of certain four-letter words and what they may or may not mean. You’ll move on to more pressing matters and pretend like it doesn’t ache just a little in your whole body.
You cover his hand with your own.
“Are you going to break up with me anytime soon?”
Spencer’s eyes widen, filling with genuine horror and confusion.
“What? No!”
“Are you going to cheat on me?”
“Absolutely not, I—”
“Then I’m not going to regret it. Issue resolved. Moving on.”
“Honey, I just want you to be 100% sure that I’m what you want.”
“Oh my god,” you groan, flopping onto your back once more. “I have begged you to sleep with me on multiple occasions. We have been dating for months and I liked you even longer before that. I think about it literally every time I see you. I don’t know how to be any surer.”
It’s quiet for a moment as you study the imaginary pattern on the ceiling. The rebuttal you’d been anticipating doesn’t come—instead, the mattress shifts next to you. Spencer enters your field of vision, now leaning over you with a little smile on his face that gives you butterflies.
“Every time?”
“…yes, every time,” you agree, voice considerably thinner than it had been a moment ago. Spencer glances at your lips as he speaks.
“Interesting. And what is it that you think about exactly?”
You groan again, attempting to roll facedown, but he pins your shoulder to the bed. The way he’s sweetly kissing down your cheek and jaw is infuriating because you know it’s a false pretense.
“Ugh, I don’t know! Don’t make me answer that!”
“You said if talking about it was all that was standing in my way, we would talk about it. Now I want to talk about it. Come on,” he says, voice low and cloying against your throat as he attempts to tease the answer out of you. “Tell me what you think about when you think about us having sex.”
You let out a shaky breath at the feeling of his lips skimming your neck, hating how easily he can reduce you to this.
“I… I always wonder what it will feel like. Sometimes I wonder if it will hurt.”
Spencer sighs, interrogation by way of seduction momentarily forgotten. You silently curse yourself for saying something so un-sexy.
“It might, sweetheart. That’s one of the reasons we’ve held back. I… really don’t want to hurt you. I don’t even know if I can.”
You grab his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you with more confidence than you feel.
“Sometimes I worry about it, too. But I like you a lot more than it scares me. I still want to.”
He kisses your palm.
“You’ll be okay. It doesn’t hurt for everyone, and even if it does, you’re resilient.”
“Exactly. So you have to get over yourself.”
Spencer laughs like he wasn’t expecting to, eyes sparkling as he regards you.
“Yeah. Yeah, maybe I do.”
He’s smiling again as he leans down and kisses you—a slow, lingering thing which tastes like spearmint as you part your lips for him.
“Please?” you whisper against him after a long moment. He hums, keeps kissing you.
“What is it that you think you want? You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”
“Tell me,” you beg, chasing his lips. “Tell me what you’re going to do with me. We can talk about it. This is talking about it.”
Spencer exhales deeply, wedging a thigh between yours. Immediately you clamp around it, trying not to grind against him too overtly.
“You want to know what I’d do to you?”
“Yes—” you paw at his jacket. Surprisingly, he doesn’t stop you from pushing it off. Your heart pounds.
“Well… we both know how anxious you get,” he muses, pressing his lips so delicately to your fluttering pulse-point in emphasis, and then back to your mouth. His thigh pushes harder against you to supplant the absence of his lips as he speaks, though he kisses you sporadically and between sentences. “You’re hard to get out of your head when you’re nervous, you know that? I watch it happen. One minute you’re with me, and then you start overthinking, and getting self-conscious. The only thing that seems to relax you is letting me touch you—so first I would touch you like I’ve touched you before. I’d make sure you know how pretty you are and how good you deserve to feel.” You whimper inadvertently at his words, arching into him and grinding against his leg as he pauses to kiss the sensitive soft spot below your jaw. “You’re going to need to be really ready to let me in. Do you know what I mean by that?”
As he asks, he pushes his thigh against you harder. Your body responds immediately, arching into him and seeking more friction. When you squeak, he takes it as a no.
“I mean I need you relaxed and wet. You’ll excuse my crude language.”
You pull at his tie, breathing heavier now and so turned on it’s almost painful.
“What are you gonna do after that?”
“What else is there to do but fuck you after that?” he breathes. “You want me to tell you how I’d fuck you?”
Something about it makes you whine salaciously. You’ve heard him curse—you’ve even heard him talk about fucking you. But it feels more real now; when it’s low in your ear and you’re covertly undressing him and he’s pushing your shirt over your stomach promisingly.
“Yes, please.”
He hums against your jaw, nipping and brushing his lips over the skin as he considers. Leaves you waiting.
“I would have to take my time with you. You’ll be overwhelmed. I know you think you won’t, but you will. I’m going to have to be so, so careful with you, angel. It’s going to drive me insane. But it will feel good for you.”
“Why careful? I don’t want that.”
He chuckles. A chill runs down your spine.
“Yeah, you do. You’re going to want me to be careful when I’m—” he pauses, pressing his thumb to your bare lower tummy and dragging up to a spot below your belly button. He presses down lightly again. “Right here. Approximately.”
The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your skin in this moment, as you writhe underneath him in both arousal and embarrassment. Mostly, burning need. You feel almost sick with it.
“Please don’t make me wait anymore. Just do it, please, Spencer. I need it to be you, I don’t want it to be anyone else. I promise I’m ready.”
It’s silent for a moment. Your heart quickens. You sense his walls wearing away, his instinct to keep you intact for god knows what reason crumbling. He’s finally going to give you what you’ve been begging for.
Spencer opens his mouth, eyes glimmering—
And then his phone rings.
You both freeze—he melts dejectedly before you do, more accustomed to an ill-timed phone call and realizing the finality it can present.
He’s breathing heavily against your neck, as if maybe whoever it is will just hang up. But the phone keeps ringing.
“I’m sorry.”
Your stomach sinks as he sits up, grabbing his phone from the side table and rubbing circles on your inner thigh as he answers.
“This is Reid,” he says, lackluster.
If you wanted, you could hear what Penelope is saying—but you don’t bother listening. It’s going to be a case. Spencer is about to leave. The details are his problem.
“Okay. I’ll be there in an hour.”
He hangs up, tossing the phone onto the mattress and not speaking for a moment, just continuing to rub your leg apologetically. Watching you almost mournfully—taking in your disheveled hair, your likely blown-out pupils, the shirt pushed almost over your chest.
“I have to go right now,” he finally manages with a heavy sigh, gently pulling your shirt back into place.
You sit up, shedding all the hopes that had been building for the evening, and try to sound chipper—though all you feel is bitter disappointment that goes deeper than you understand.
“I know. Go ahead, I can get a cab home.”
He frowns, running his hand over the back of your hair.
“I don’t love the idea of you standing on the sidewalk waiting for a car in this part of town so late. Do you just want to stay here for the night and go home tomorrow?”
You force a smile. Great. So you’ll be spending the night in his bed after all—just without him.
“Sure. Thanks.”
“Yeah.”
Neither of you are feeling particularly grateful.
Soon you’re walking him to his own door. Both of you come to a stop in front.
“I’m sorry,” he sighs again.
“Spencer, it’s fine. It’s your job. You don’t need to apologize. You were very clear about this part when we started dating.”
“I know, but… it’s easier in theory than in practice.”
You smile. If Spencer is a reflection of you, it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. His hair is still messy from your fingers running through it and he’s missing his tie. You hope all his coworkers see and feel bad about taking him away from you.
But it’s not their fault. You just want someone to blame.
Instead you mould yourself to his body, wrapping around him like you belong there. He returns your embrace, pressing his lips into the crook of your shoulder and rubbing your back in that way he always does with you.
In that moment, your affection for him becomes so profound it’s like a chemical reaction—everywhere he touches burns and you love him so fucking much it aches in every inch of your body the way your muscles do when you have a bad fever. Love is the most terrible of afflictions, you realize. It is a fever dream. It’s every fiber of your being screaming to tell him how you feel, to beg him on your knees not to go because you love him like a child loves a parent or a bee loves honeysuckle or the ocean loves the horizon. Pared down to your most basic components, the barest version of yourself, you require him. Your soul needs his soul.
“Spencer?”
“Hm?”
It’s nothing more than an absentminded hum against your skin.
“I…”
Should you be looking him in the eye when you say this? Should you say it right before he has to leave? Just because you say it doesn’t change the fact that he’s about to be gone for several long days. Maybe this is a terrible time to admit something that suddenly feels so true and so consequential.
He senses your internal conflict, pulling back despite your resistance and holding your face between his hands.
“You what?” He murmurs, soft eyes bouncing back and forth between your own. Fuck—you feel so observed, now. Like he can read your mind.
“I forget.”
FUUUUUUCK.
Spencer blinks. Processes. You watch the disbelief crystallizing over his eyes like ice freezing over a lake.
He knows.
He knows you didn’t forget, and he probably knows what you were going to say, and he’s going to tell himself he was wrong to spare your dignity.
Everything hurts when he kisses you. You wonder what regret tastes like.
“Well, let me know if you remember.”
It’s too gentle and at the same time he can’t hide the edge with all the tenderness in the world. You nod as if in a trance, already looking forward to dissociating as you lie in bed and stare at the dark ceiling.
Two small goodbyes are exchanged, slightly stifled now, as if shared between drunk strangers who have sobered up and are mutually embarrassed about how candidly they’d interacted before.
You close the door behind him, doing up all the locks, and meticulously flick every light switch in the apartment off before climbing into his bed—though you don’t really feel like you deserve to be there anymore.
But perhaps this is all an overreaction. It’s not like you owe it to him to say I love you, or anything—it was bad timing, anyway. And why can’t he say it? In fact, why hasn’t he said it?
Maybe you have it all wrong.
Maybe he doesn’t feel that way about you.
You fall asleep before you allow these questions to make you sick.
24 hours go by.
24 hours go by and you really had meant to leave his apartment—it was just that you woke up late, and your phone was dead so you couldn’t call a car, so you charged it while you made breakfast, and then you ate, and then you decided to take a shower and wash your clothes, and then it was two in the afternoon and you hadn’t left yet and you decided to walk to the store and replenish the groceries you’d used up.
Maybe you got a bit distracted looking at flowers and other beautiful things at the market and by the time you got home it was 5:00, so you decided to wait until seven to skip rush hour. And then eight, just to be sure.
Before you know it, it’s midnight, and you’re dozing off in his bed again (teeth cleaned with the brush you’d bought at the store—maybe this whole situation hadn’t been entirely unwitting on your part.)
Throughout the day, you tried to let all your anxiety about the previous night melt away. If it’s something that needs to be addressed, Spencer will address it. Everything will work out in the end. That thought is how you’re able to doze off.
You’re almost asleep when your phone lights up and begins buzzing on the side table. You wince as your eyes open, not adjusting well to the harsh bright display and unable to discern who’s even calling you at this hour. Stupidly, probably because you’re half asleep, you answer without checking.
“Hello?”
Your voice is groggy, quiet with sleep.
“Shit, did I wake you?”
“Spence?” you whisper, stomach flipping at the sound of his voice on the other line. You feel caught, still sleeping in his bed.
“… yeah,” he chuckles. “Did you not check who was calling before you picked up?”
“I was asleep,” you pout. “Kinda.”
“Okay. Go back to sleep, honey. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
You sit bolt upright, phone balanced between tense fingers and speaking directly into the microphone.
“No! No, I’m awake. What’s up? Why did you call?”
A longer stretch of silence—you’re too sleepy to comprehend what it might mean, though never too sleepy to worry about it. With a pang of pain, you recall your strange goodbye, the words you hadn’t said.
“I just needed to hear your voice,” he sighs. You frown, staring at nothing in particular in the pitch black room.
“Oh. Is everything okay?”
“As much as it can be.”
“Right.”
More quiet. You chew on the inside of your cheek, stricken with a sudden feeling of awkwardness that you haven’t had with Spencer in a while.
“I’m sorry… I don’t really know what to say.”
“That’s okay,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice which makes you feel a bit better, “why don’t you tell me about your day? Or you can absolutely go back to sleep, if you’re too tired.”
“Don’t ask me about my day,” you whisper, flopping down on the bed once more. Shame seeps into your voice. He laughs.
“What? Why?”
“Because if I tell you you’re going to think I’m super weird and you’re going to break up with me.”
Laughter tapers off into gentler tones.
“I already think you’re super weird. It’s actually one of your most attractive qualities.”
Blood rushes to your cheeks.
“But it’s like… borderline crazy.”
Immediately, he replies, “for better or worse, I also frequently find myself attracted to crazy.”
“Thank you for calling me crazy and super weird,” you grumble.
“I also called you attractive twice. Tell me.”
When his tone takes on that easy, assertive quality, and it’s sort of raspy and low because it’s late and he’s been talking all day, and you can hear the lazy smile on his face—you imagine him laying on his hotel bed, arm slung over his eyes in the dark as he grins into the microphone—you have a very difficult time saying no.
“Fine. Guess where I am right now.”
“Um, I would hope you’re in bed?”
You smile to yourself, basking in the victory of successfully throwing him off his game even slightly.
“Guess whose bed.”
Silence.
“What an interesting question.” That cocky smile, the low drawling is back, and you chew on your lip, ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine. “If it’s not mine or yours, we’re going to have issues.”
“But if it is yours? You’re not going to call the police on me?”
“Why would I call the police? To tell them there’s a pretty girl in my bed and I don’t want her there?”
“To tell them your psychopathic girlfriend broke into your apartment and might be holding hostages there.”
Spencer laughs; a brittle, drawn out thing, flat and quiet as the desert.
“If you were a psychopath, calling the cops would be a waste of time. I would handle you myself.” The idea of being handled has your thighs clenching. “But—yeah, don’t invite anyone else in.” More humor finds its way into his voice, momentarily relieving some tension that had sneakily begun to build. “Having people in my space makes me anxious.”
“But not me?” Your whisper is half flirtatious, half insecure. Spencer’s reply is soft, as if he’s picking up on this from hundreds of miles away.
“No, not you. You are always the exception.”
“Good,” you say, cheeks aching as you half-bury your warm face into his pillow. “Because I made myself really comfortable. You have a nice shower, by the way.”
Spencer groans.
“You’re killing me.”
“What? What did I do!”
“Don’t talk to me about my bed and my shower. I might start to think you’re intentionally being a brat.”
“You asked me about my day! I’m just telling you what I did!”
But you’re also intentional teasing him for sure. After a pause, he sighs in defeat.
“You’re right. I did do that. Tell me what else happened.”
“Well,” you begin, all too eager, “I had to put my clothes in the dryer after I got out, so I borrowed some of yours. But then they were way comfier than mine, so after I went to the store I put them back on, and—”
“Okay.”
“Okay what?” you frown.
“Tell me what this is.”
“I—I don’t know what you mean.”
Lying to a profiler is usually pointless.
“I’m not stupid, sweetheart. Tell me why you keep talking about my shower and my bed and my clothes.”
Caught red-handed. Your skin heats up.
“I don’t know. I miss you.”
He hums in a way that blurs the line between sympathetic and patronizing. Even through the phone you can feel the bass of it in your bones. It changes the frequency you’re vibrating at. It’s hypnotic.
“But that’s not really why you’re being intentionally provocative, is it?”
“No,” you admit quietly. “I’m still upset you had to go last night.”
“So you’re frustrated and you’re taking it out on me?”
Your brow furrows. Well, when he puts it like that…
“I’m not taking anything out on you.”
“I think you are. And I don’t appreciate that, because I’m on your side, honey. Do you think I prefer being in a hotel bed by myself or being in my bed with you?”
Somehow, he makes you feel like a scolded child. But he makes it appealing in ways you don’t understand.
“Your bed with me,” you murmur, skin prickling with the coldness of his absence even as you curl under the blanket.
“Right. So why don’t you tell me what I can do for you right now, instead of punishing me for things that are beyond my control?”
“I wasn’t punishing you,” you mutter.
“No? You weren’t intentionally talking about using my shower and sleeping in my bed and putting on my clothes so that I’d have to think about what I can’t have right now?”
“I—”
“Believe me when I tell you I have been thinking about what I can’t have, all day. Your efforts are entirely redundant and you can’t say anything about yourself that is even close to as dirty as the frankly disrespectful thoughts I’ve been having about you for seventeen hours.”
The lack of air is making you so dizzy your vision goes gray at the edges.
“What… what thoughts?”
“None that you need to concern yourself with.”
“You can’t just say something like that and then not tell me!” you insist. He’s obviously giving you a taste of your own medicine and it’s fair but it doesn’t mean you have to like it.
“I can do whatever I want,” Spencer corrects cooly in a way that pisses you off beyond belief because he’s right. It triggers some adolescent immaturity within you—a desire to get back at him, so to speak. He wants intentionally provocative? He can have it.
“Fine. Then so can I. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it even if I could.”
“Spencer,” you warn. “If you don’t tell me what you were thinking I’m gonna—” you look around the room for ammo. “I’m gonna look through your nightstand!”
“Go ahead. I’ll warn you, it’s not very interesting.”
“Sounds like what someone who has something hide would say,” you mumble, crawling across the mattress through tangled sheets and using your phone flashlight to open the drawer.
Spencer is patient and silent as you take in its contents—a small blue leather-bound notebook (full of what looks like Russian), a fountain pen, a glasses case, various kinds of vitamins, and—
“Spencer Reid,” you say, dragging out his name and pretending nothing is fluttering in your stomach, “what are these?”
“I don’t know. I can’t see what you’re referring to.”
“Take a wild guess.”
“Oh, I have one. But I’d like to hear you say it.”
You realize you may have gotten yourself in deeper than you meant to by going through his stuff. Well—they don’t say karma is a bitch for nothing.
“What are you doing with a box of condoms?”
He chuckles and you feel it in your whole body, warm as you stretch across his mattress and eye the box like it might jump out at you.
“Those are years old. I’ve used three since I bought them.”
“Don’t tell me that,” you whine. “I don’t wanna think about all the other women you’ve seduced.”
“You wanted them to be for you, huh?”
You flush. Honestly you hadn’t even thought about that.
“I… I don’t know. I kind of just assumed…”
It’s silent for a second and you frown, realizing you hadn’t even considered protection when you’d imagined sleeping with him before.
“You assumed what, honey?” he asks, voice soft.
“It’s dumb. I can’t tell you.”
“You can tell me anything. I’m not going to think it’s dumb, I promise.”
You chew on your lip, letting your eyes unfocus on the box as you muster the courage to be honest.
“Whenever I imagined it… we didn’t… use anything.”
The words make you cringe even as you’re saying them. So does the quiet that follows.
“When you imagine us sleeping together, we don’t use a condom?”
“Ah!” The phone drops to the mattress as you cover your ears and roll onto your side, curling into yourself once more. “You didn’t have to say it! You make me sound so weird!”
“It’s not weird,” he laughs, because he can probably imagine exactly what you just did, “I just wanted to make sure I was understanding you. That said… we would definitely use protection.”
“Do we have to?”
The quiet words take even you by surprise—and they seem to stun Spencer as well. Several false starts are punctuated by a sigh as he gathers his thoughts.
“We really should, baby. That’s the kind of thing we need to take seriously.”
“But you’re… you’re good, right?”
Thankfully he picks up on your meaning.
“I am. I wouldn’t touch you if I weren’t.”
“And I’m good. So...”
“Hm. And has anyone ever explained to you where babies come from?”
You groan in frustration.
“Spencer, I’m being serious! There are ways to negate that.”
“Honey,” he murmurs, “I understand that. But it would be irresponsible of me to say yes. We can talk about it in the future, but—”
“I’m telling you it’s already dealt with. The chances of an accidental pregnancy are slim to none.”
The new information hangs in the air for a moment until Spencer speaks—to your surprise, his voice is low and humorous.
“That is… good to know. But even so—I’m setting a dangerous precedent if I always let you get exactly what you want.”
“Is it such a bad thing that I just wanna—I wanna know what it feels like? You don’t want that?”
“That’s not what I said. I want to know exactly what you feel like. I’m just hesitant to give in so quickly because it makes me look weak.”
You laugh breathlessly, caught between being turned on by the first part of his sentence and amused by the sarcastic second half. Your thighs clench and your hand absentmindedly wanders between them.
“You know what I was thinking about?” you ask. Spencer hums curiously. “I was thinking about when you let me, um… when you let me touch you how you touch me.” He hums again, but you can hear the amused curve of a smile in it now.
“When you had your mouth all full of me and you looked so pretty?”
“When I—yeah,” you agree, too caught up to deny his compliment as your fingers brush your most sensitive spot through clothing. “And how you got me all messy after. And I was wondering what it would feel like… inside me.”
He sucks in a breath. Your legs brush against each other and you twist slightly as you pretend like you’re not touching yourself just a little bit.
“You want me to come inside you?”
“Yeah,” you whisper, brain short-circuiting at the way those words sound in his voice.
—
On the other side of the line, Spencer isn’t doing a fantastic job of thinking clearly either. His dick is half-hard already and it’s only getting worse with each little noise you make that you don’t seem to realize you’re making.
“Really? That would be very messy, baby. I’m surprised that’s what you want.”
“But I really want it,” you breathe. He’s not even looking as he slips his hand under the waistband of his pajamas and palms himself, his other hand rubbing tiredly over his face as his phone rests on his chest. This was not how he intended for this call to go, believe it or not—but he’s here now.
“Yeah? Is that why you’re touching yourself right now?”
You go silent—which is more or less exactly the reaction Spencer had been expecting. Patiently he waits for you to deny it, in three, two—
“’M not.”
Now, he could explain how he knows that’s a lie. How your breathing pattern changed, and your voice got softer and airier, and how you started speaking with smaller words in fragmented sentences. But he doesn’t feel like explaining any of that.
“I know that’s not true,” he murmurs. “You know what? It wasn’t fair to get you all worked up last night and then leave. I don’t want you frustrated, honey. I want you to do whatever you need to do.”
You make a little gasping noise, and Spencer can imagine the way your back would arch when you did it. His own hips buck slightly as his dick twitches under his fingers.
“Where are you touching?”
“Um—over my clothes.”
Cute.
“Go under them for me. Tell me how it feels when you’re touching yourself like that.”
It takes a moment, in which all he hears is the rustling of fabric, until you’re whispering, “feels… it feels good. I wish you were here.”
He inhales, freeing his cock and squeezing the base.
“I know. Just listen to my voice, pretty. I’m right here.”
Spencer allows himself a few slow tugs as he imagines what’s happening in his bed. You make a squeaking noise, like a held-back moan, and his eyes screw shut.
“I need them inside,” you whine, and he knows you’re referring to his fingers—the ones currently stroking his own leaking cock.
“You can use your own, just give yourself a minute first. Remember what I said about needing to be ready?”
“I am ready��” judging by the surprised chirp you interrupt yourself with, you’ve proven yourself right. What surprises Spencer is the weak sound of disappointment you make next. “Spence, it doesn’t feel the same.”
“We’re different sizes, honey. Your hands aren’t as big as mine. But you can still make it feel good.”
He almost says, 90% of the nerves in the vaginal canal are located in the lower third—in other words, within approximately 2.36 inches from the opening, which you can most certainly reach—but he refrains. He’s not sure if that’s good dirty talk.
“You have a really sensitive spot about three inches up, right in front. It’s going to feel a little different than the rest of you when you touch it. I want you to try and find it for me, okay?”
“Okay,” you breathe, ever-eager to please even from a great distance. There’s a quiet moment. “I can’t—I don’t think I can r—oh,”
The moan is so pretty Spencer can’t help speeding up the motion of his hand, hissing slightly as his fingers brush against the angry tip with every pump.
“Did you find it?”
“Yeah,” you whine, a weak, high-pitched thing. “Oh my god.”
“Be gentle,” he warns with some effort as his own hips jump slightly. “You’re really sensitive there. If you’re not careful you’ll make yourself sore.”
“I don’t care—holy shit—” the way your voice rises and tightens to a squeak at the end has Spencer moaning as he fucks his fist. A black hole forms and warps time, turning every minute into a second and every second into an infinity until he has no idea how much time is going by. He drags his thumb over the tip, smearing precum over his cock and whining as his jaw drops at the feeling. “Oh my god, Spencer,” in that same strained, high voice. “’M gonna—ah!”
He gets the general sentiment.
“What, baby? You’re gonna make yourself come all over your fingers? Is that what you wanted to tell me?”
“Mhm!”
“Yeah, I bet you are. It feels good, huh?”
“Yes,” you cry.
“See? You don’t need my fingers to feel good. Mine barely fit, you know that? I have to hold your fucking hips down whenever I put my fingers in you because you can’t stop squirming. I don’t know how you think you’re going to take my cock.”
“Spencer!”
He knows.
“Come, baby. Let me hear you.”
The delicate sounds you make as you bring yourself to orgasm tip him over the edge of his own—grunting as he comes all over his fist.
“Jesus,” he strains under his breath, the word dragging out into two long syllables as his hips buck involuntarily and cum drips down his knuckles. He’s lightheaded and he’s created a mess and it all happened so quickly. “Fuck,” he breathes, a rasping chuckle as he reaches for the towel he’d dropped on the bed after his shower earlier. “You conscious over there?”
“I’m conscious,” you slur, breathing heavily. “I’ve never had an orgasm by myself before.”
“Are you proud of yourself?” Spencer smiles, wiping his hand off and making sure he’s otherwise clean. “You should be. I am.”
He’s barely kidding.
“I’ll be proud when I can do it without your help,” you tease.
“But I’ll always want to help you with that.” His already warm face flushes further as he goes over what he’d said. “Sorry I was so vulgar.”
You laugh. He blushes even more.
“Are you? I think you secretly love being vulgar.”
“I don’t know why! I have no idea where it comes from. I would never speak that way in any other context. I should probably work on that. Sometimes I look back on the things I say and I’m genuinely appalled.”
“Well, don’t stop on my account. Personally I enjoy it.”
“Yeah, I think I’m corrupting you. You probably shouldn’t enjoy it.”
The truth of it weighs heavy on his mind, but he’s pretty sure his voice alone doesn’t betray that and you can’t sense it through the phone.
“Oh, my god. Do not do that falling on your sword shit. I like being corrupted by you. If you stop I’ll be very upset.”
“Well god forbid you get upset,” he teases gently. Idly he wonders if the reason he’s suddenly feeling so depressed is because his cortisol levels were already high from the case, and then he jarred his system with an orgasm, spiking his dopamine and ultimately causing it to plummet without the oxytocin release that post-coital physical contact would usually provide.
Or if it was something else. It could also be something else.
For the millionth time, he wishes he was with you. Part of him also wants to go to sleep. But mostly he wishes he was with you.
—
A comfortable silence settles over the conversation. In the ditch between words, you’re mapping constellations in the texture of Spencer’s ceiling. If you squeeze your eyes almost shut, you can imagine it really is the night sky. You can imagine he’s really here.
You think about what he said—his apparently mindless vulgarity. Did it mean anything? Or was he just rambling to get you off?
“Spencer?” you murmur.
“Yeah?”
“Can I ask you a question?”
He sounds earnest, perhaps a little tired, as he replies, “always,” through the little metal rectangle on your chest. He likes me and my questions are important to him, you repeat to yourself silently as you work up the strength.
“If Penelope hadn’t called, last night… were you going to have sex with me?”
Your lip tastes like his toothpaste as you chew it. Spencer sucks in a breath of air like he’s about to speak—and lets it fizzle out like foam on a carbonated drink.
“I don’t know,” he finally admits, lamely. “That wasn’t my plan, but you can be extremely convincing when you want to be.”
“But why can’t it be your plan?” It’s an almost whine, pouty and childish—but the next words are quiet and pained. “Is it something I’m doing wrong?”
“No, no! It’s not you. You’re perfect. It’s—it’s complicated. It’s a me thing.”
Such trite words—such a ubiquitous, simple excuse sounds almost comical from his mouth when you know he’s capable of all the eloquence in the world. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s ridiculous.
“Okay. Let me simplify this for you,” you begin with an uncharacteristic assertiveness that surprises even you. “I want to have sex with you. Either we are going to have sex or we’re not. So your future branches in two diverging paths. In one, we have sex, and then we keep having sex. In the other we never have sex ever. If you want to ever have the privilege of fucking me, then we just have to do it. Otherwise it simply will never happen. And I’m not eternally patient, Reid.”
Go me, you think, slightly breathless from your monologue.
“Watch your mouth,” he says dryly. Something about the chastisement makes your stomach flip and your whole body tingle. “When you talk to me you call me Spencer. I will also accept Doctor Reid.” You wrestle down a smile, refusing to let him change the subject. A delayed sigh from him sobers up the conversation. “You know what I want. I’ve been very clear with you about that. But…”
“But…?”
Another sigh. A deeper, shuddering sigh, like his breath is searching for balance. Like Spencer is in a precarious position for which he was unprepared.
“But—but to be completely honest… I worry that you’ll regret choosing me. And I know virginity is a social construct and I’m not implying that your worth will somehow be diminished if we have sex but regardless of my views on virginity as a construct, having sex for the first time can be weird and scary and it’s incredibly intimate and I don’t want you to regret your first time like I regret mine because you chose the wrong person.”
The words come at you so rapid-fire it takes you a moment to process them. And aside from all the ways you want to reassure him that you will not regret choosing him—that you could never, ever regret anything about him—one thing stands out.
“You regret your first time?”
Something between a scoff and a sigh travels through the line. You can tell he’s not annoyed at you for asking so much as he’s flustered himself with all his own words as he occasionally does.
“Yeah. Yes. Sometimes I do. The person—she didn’t… like me as much as I liked her. And I was really, really in love with her, and she knew that and she knew she wasn’t in love with me—or maybe she was, I don’t know—but my point is, when one person likes the other more than the other person like them, things get complicated. And however you feel about me—that’s fine. It’s fine. I don’t want you to feel bad if we don’t feel exactly the same way about each other. I understand that this is newer for you, it’s different, I—I just don’t want us to do something we can’t undo because I don’t want to relive that. And I’m not saying it will never happen but I just don’t want you to make this choice when… when right now, I think we’re in different places emotionally. Regardless of that, I want you to choose the right person. I don’t want you to choose me and then find out that we feel differently after we sleep together and leave you feeling like you signed up for something you didn’t understand. I’m sorry. Maybe telling you this is selfish. But I’ve been thinking about it and trying to ignore it and I think I just have to be completely honest.”
Your ears ring like Spencer just fired a blank right into the microphone. Like you just got backhanded across the face and now you have the world’s worst case of whiplash.
Every finger is numb and your blood is so cold it feels blue as it slithers thick through your veins.
What you want to do is scream. What you want to do is go back to last night and stop yourself from almost telling him I love you, slap yourself and keep your cards a little closer to your chest. Because now he knows, and he doesn’t feel the same.
You want to scream bloody murder.
But when you try, when you unhinge your jaw and part your chapped lips and expect a bellow to come hurdling up the corridor of your throat with so much force it rattles your bones, all that falls out is a small, “oh.”
Maybe that’s worse.
Spencer doesn’t reply. You hate yourself for feeling obliged to fill the silence.
“I didn’t realize you…”
I didn’t realize that you don’t love me back.
I didn’t realize I like you more than you like me.
I didn’t realize you’d tell me to masturbate in your fucking bed and then drop this not even five minutes later.
If Spencer Reid was able to talk to you over the phone with the same amount of affection and familiarity as always, like everything was still okay, knowing you love him and he doesn’t love you the whole time, he is not who you thought he was.
“I’m sorry,” he lamely says again, like it could ever help.
More silence. Now you can’t bring yourself to speak, so Spencer does.
“I realize how awkward this is. I really didn’t mean to put you in this position. Especially not over the phone when I—god, I’m stupid. I’m sorry. But can we—can we talk about this in person when I get back? Please?”
Is that what grownups do? Is the proper etiquette for him to take you out to dinner and explain why he’s not in love with you? Is he going to break up with you?
What does one even wear to a breakup date?
“Okay,” you whisper. Your eyes sting, your everything stings, like you’ve been wrapped in a shroud of briar. Sheets that were soft a moment ago feel like sandpaper on open wounds. You feel like an open wound.
Spencer sighs. It’s a sound of relief that confuses and hurts you even more.
“Okay. I—okay. Thank you. Um—I’ll let you go back to sleep, now.”
“Okay,” you repeat—as if any of this were okay. But you can’t keep being that stupid girl who feels it all so much harder, who loves easily and begs to be loved in return, too naive to assume that someone who treats her so kindly might not reciprocate her feelings. It has to be okay, because if it’s not, you’re silly and dramatic and you’re just proving him right.
“Goodnight,” Spencer whispers, and you can’t help but feeling that it’s the last time you’ll ever hear those words from his mouth while you’re in his bed. And he’s not even fucking here.
So you pull the blanket a little higher. You let your tears stain his pillow because they’ll be invisible by the morning. It will be like they were never here. Like you were never here.
“Goodnight.”
#spencer reid#spencer reid fic#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid angst#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#criminal minds#criminal minds smut#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds fic
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Can I request a Gojo x male reader that owns a cafe. Reader is having an event for his cafe where if someone gets a special item in their dessert (like idk a cherry or something) he would make them a custom dessert. Gojo, who had won the competition, requested to have Olive as his dessert. (Olive and Gojo do know each other, so it's nit like Gojo is a stranger requesting this lol. If you choose this request then thank you <3
Consider it done~ And for the sake of not naming the reader, I won't be using the name Olive but the relationship can remain.
Title: Sweet Tooth
Characters: Gojo x m!reader
Contains: heated/sensual make out
Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen
Full request below the cut
All characters are 18+
MINORS, FEM ALIGNED, AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS DNI
Reblogs > likes
"Congratulations! You won a custom dessert!"
Behind shaded lenses, Gojo blinked in reaction to the announcement. "Hah?"
You handed him a specialized card in both hands, a small one made of easy to punch paper. "A custom dessert! It's an event I'm holding. People who order a specific item from the menu get a special dessert made just for them, free of charge! With limitations of course."
As a café owner, you liked to hold these little events on occasion, especially if you ended up with more ingredients than you sold. It was a convenient way to get rid of them without having to throw them away and wasting them. For Gojo to win one felt like a thrill, as he didn't often stop by as of late thanks to his teaching position. He luckily had some time during the day to come by for a sweet treat, especially since he promised he would at some point.
Taking the card, Gojo scanned the text.
You've won one (1) free custom dessert*! Present this card at purchase to redeem.
*Limitations apply. Good for one item up to ¥800
His drink and to-go box were already on the counter as he gazed back at you. With not a lot of time left in his break, he gave you a charming smile, picking up his items after sliding the card in his pocket. "I'll definitely stop by before you close to redeem this, maybe get some extra things while I'm here."
You two gave each other a wave before Gojo stepped out.
---
As closing time approached, you tried keeping the oven on as long as you could, keeping all the necessary ingredients nearby for whenever Gojo entered the shop, but despite your efforts and hopeful waiting, closing hour came, and you begrudgingly turned the heat off while putting the ingredients into storage.
You were upset, yeah, but not exactly at Gojo. It wasn't the first time his job made him stay out, and it wasn't the first time he didn't show up when he said he would. You didn't want to think about all the plans that fell through on top of this, so after locking the front doors, you set yourself to nearly deep clean the café to distract yourself.
You were going to start with the back. Since that area was out of customer sight, you never really cleaned it as well as you should, but at least it was always within code. You had put your apron up on the rack when a knock rattled the backdoor in the room, nearly causing you to jump out of your skin.
You don't recall ordering any new items, as this is where deliveries would be handled commonly, but you could have simply forgotten. That being said, you opened the door, revealing a towering male with familiar white hair and cloth-shielded eyes.
"Yo, am I too late?" His voice was all too casual for his delay in presence.
Disappointment had gave way to anger, and you turned around, allowing Gojo to enter the shop, gazing around the new environment for a customer.
"You have some nerve..."
"What? I came by! I said I would!"
"You said you'd come by before closing!" Built up frustration bubbled to the surface as you started gathering your cleaning items, haphazardly pacing back and forth to grab the items that were strewn about. "Like how you said you'd come over for drinks last week, or how you wanted to catch a movie the time before that."
Gojo let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, I know I messed up. Things have been...crazy with the school for awhile."
"Then you should just focus on that instead of giving me hope." Water splashed from the soap filled bucket you made while talking, having slammed a rag in it after. There was an unsettling silence before Gojo spoke.
"But I'm here, right? After closing, sure. But I'm not bailing completely." He revealed the card from his pocket, still in decent condition despite the activity he typically does. "I still wanna cash in, if that's okay."
You stalled your movements, glancing at him with the revealed card before your gaze went back to the bucket, letting out a sigh.
"I...Yeah." There wasn't any point in being angry right now. You had to admit it was nice of him to come back when he said he would despite being late. He could have bailed out or gotten caught up with work like he usually did but he actually came back this time. "I'm sorry. I'm...really sorry." You straightened up, taking a nice deep breath to ground yourself for the moment. "I haven't started cleaning yet, so what would you like? I can get the stuff back out, but remember it's a ¥800 limit."
"If it's custom, what determines the price?" As Gojo spoke, he stepped over to you, rereading the text to make sure he read it all correctly.
You replied while tying your apron back on. "Size, mainly. You can take a menu item and change it how you want, and I can let you know if that will be within your range."
"Can I go off menu?"
"Well...I don't see why not, but you'd really have to know what you'd--" Your words cut off once you turned back around to face Gojo after your apron was on. He was so close to you, you could almost feel the heat radiating off of him, which contradicted the chilling feeling from the icy blue stare that now graced you. "--w-want."
"So as long as I really know what I want, I can have it, yeah?" His voice dropped to a husky tone as he leaned close, your back starting to press into the wall.
"S-Satoru--"
"Well, can I redeem the cute shop owner~?"
When his cold hand touched your heated cheek, your heart picked up in pace. It pounded in your ears, nearly drowning out all sound. You had no idea Gojo felt this way, but maybe you were just oblivious to past actions.
"I-I...um...I-I'm not exactly a dessert..."
"Are you sure? Because my sweet tooth kicks in whenever I see you~ Maybe I could have a sample first?"
Before you could respond, Gojo's lips found yours, and he was quick to help himself past them, humming from the sweet taste that coated your mouth from sampling your creations throughout the day. Soft groans left the two of you, and you found yourself gripping at Gojo's uniform sleeves, not in protest, but to keep your mind steady. Luckily for your sake, he didn't keep the kiss long, pulling away once notice you were shaking to get air. As you panted lightly, he gave you a playful smirk, licking his lips with a satisfied hum.
"Well after a sample like that, how could I not have more~?"
You didn't need to wait for him to make a move. This time, you urged in, connecting your lips once more with his. His body pressed flush against you, the silence in the air replaced with sensually charged sounds. You gripped at his clothes as his hands raked through your hair, tongues dancing with one another as you held each other close. You were emotionally charged; anger, desire, and excitement all mixing within yourself like a lumpy batter. You didn't exactly know what to feel with him, but desire seemed to be the strongest ingredient.
This sudden makeout seemed to last awhile to you, feeling like tens of minutes went by before you two finally disconnected, gazing into each other's glazed eyes while your chests heaved for air.
"M-My house later," you breathed. "Y-You better not be late this time."
"Trust me," Gojo exhaled in response. "I wouldn't miss that for anything...~"
#kaisers house of desires#x reader#x male reader#x male y/n#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu gojo#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk gojo#gojo satoru#saturo gojo#gojou satoru x reader#gojo x reader#x y/n#jujutsu kaisen gojo#jujutsu kaisen satoru#jujutsu satoru#satorugojo#jjk satoru
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PARENTING
Pairing: Vox x fem!angel!reader
Summary: Now that little Pixel is born, you and Vox raise her thanks to a deal with Heaven and lots of chaos.
A/N: this is part two of PREGNANT, thank you sm for the request anon! Idk if it's the same one that asked for the first part but if it is I hope you like it <3
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
VOX tends to get home late, so you usually spend the day with Pixel until he comes
back
At the end of his work day, he greets his daughter like she's the most precious thing in the world
Because she is
And because she came out of the second most precious thing in the world
You see him with Pixel in his lap, her little screen staring at his bigger one and babbling something unintelligible
It almost makes you cry tears of joy
Vox normally struggles to be soft around others
Well, not exactly struggles as chooses not to, because he has a reputation to maintain
But when it comes to his family he'll do anything and everything to protect them
You notice that he seems much more himself around you and Pixel
Not that you're complaining, of course
You love this vulnerable side of him more than the eccentric, manipulative businessman he purports to be
Although if you mention it to him, he'd likely deny it
Still hellbent on keeping you away from Valentino
As a friend he's great, sure, but his filthy habits near his newborn daughter and the mother of the aforementioned daughter do not sit right with him
You're wary of keeping Velvette on babysitting duty, although Vox convinces you to try it once
Not the worst babysitting shift in the history of the world, which surprised you greatly
After you gave birth, Vox moved you and Pixel to another house to separate his family from his work life
He deems it to be safer
And he would be completely correct
That's why when Alastor returns, he flips out
He's afraid of losing you and his little Pixie to that smiling freak
And if he loses everything he's worked for, how will he support his family?
Honestly, you have no qualms about his borderline homoerotic obsession with Alastor
Of all the flaws he has, that might not be number one
And he could do much worse, in your opinion
As long as he doesn't act on it, you're completely fine with it
It's true that you're an angel and he's a demon, a seraphim and an overlord no less
It makes you wonder why Sera would agree to let you keep the child and spend your maternity leave wherever you wish
Pixel is technically a hellborn, but she's the child of a blessed and a damned soul
You don't know how that would work
When she comes of age, she'll have her court case to decide her fate, since as a newborn child she's still of indeterminate morality
As hard as it would be, Vox would want her to live a blessed life
Therefore he lets you raise her to be a good person
You teach the little girl kindness, empathy, generosity and care
The sight is bittersweet for Vox
On the one hand, he's proud of seeing his own blood be a better person than he is
On the other hand, he'd miss Pixie being home at the end of every day and clinging to his leg like a vice
"My sweet girl. Thank God you're just a baby. Dad doesn't want to give you away, but he knows it's the right choice."
You hear him talk to her like that one night, and tears spill from your eyes as you overhear the conversation
It breaks your heart to see him suffer like this
To give up his own child in this way, you know full well that you wouldn't be able to if the roles were reversed
"Da-da..."
You freeze in place when a little babbling voice reaches your ears, while Vox grins so hard and his eyes glisten with tears for a brief moment
"That's right, sweetie... dad's here. Dad's here."
You sniffle softly and walk over to sit beside him, resting your head on his shoulder and stroking the top of Pixie's screen
"I can't believe it. Time flew by so fast."
"I know... suddenly I'm seeing her go off to school."
You giggle at that, kissing Vox on the cheek and running your thumb over the edge of his screen with a little sniffle
"Are you sure you're okay with me taking her to Heaven?"
Vox sighs, expression dropping from the joy of the moment as he pauses to word his reply properly
"Yeah. It's not easy, but it's what she deserves. It's the life I want her to have."
You wrap your arms around his neck when he says so, affectionately caressing the back of his screen
"I'm really sorry. I know I'd be flipping out if I were in your place."
"Oh, believe me, I am. I'm just doing a stunningly good job at covering it up."
You chuckle softly, nuzzling your nose on his screen
He laughs along with you and plants a sweet kiss on your lips, then holds both you and Pixie close to his chest
Soon Pixel grows into a pre-teen
She has already sprouted her wings and goes to school
Vox suggests that you let her go on her own, as she can fly and he has cameras everywhere
And he'd definitely maul to death anyone who tries to mess with his daughter
But you're still extremely on edge, insisting that even if he could know when she's in danger, there's no way either of you would get there in time to save her
So you drop her off and pick her up by flight every day
She doesn't like it very much, but somehow understands it's for her own good
It isn't until she's 14 that she finds out about the Radio Demon
She first overhears it while passing by Valentino's tower when she drops by the Headquarters one day and decides to ask Vox about it
"Dad?"
"Yes, dear?"
"Who's Alastor?"
Vox is visibly aggravated
Electricity zaps across his antennae and racks his entire body as he struggles not to dig his clawed fingers in the table
"Ha, ha... where did you learn that name, Pixie?"
Pixel worries for his reaction, flinching back as she stutters out a soft, "I- I- I-"
"Lady Archangel Pixel of Pride and Kindness, tell me who told you about that freak right now!"
"I- I heard Uncle Val saying that name, and- and that he hears he's back...!"
Vox is seconds away from electrocuting the entire Pentagram
So today he's going to deal with explaining to his teenage daughter about some psychopath he used to know and is learning that he's back from his child
"Oh, no, because God forbid Valentino shut his mouth for once in his fucking life!"
He slams his fist on the table and buries his screen in his hands, resting his elbows on the table and attempting to take a few deep breaths
"Dad...?"
He looks up and sees his daughter's big eyes staring at him with concern
He must have scared her with his outburst
Vox frowns and gathers her in his arms, sighing as he plants a kiss on the top of her screen
"I'm sorry, Pixie, I'm sorry. Alastor used to be my partner."
Pixel looks to the side and back at him, blinking multiple times
This conversation just took quite the turn
"I'll probably regret this, but... partner as in...?"
"Business partner! Jesus Christ, Pixel!"
The young girl sighs in relief
Honestly, he couldn't blame her for jumping to that conclusion
Vox tells her about his partnership with Alastor, everything about what he's really like and what he could do to hurt them now
He knows she's mature enough to understand
"What I want you to do now is call your mother and ask her to come pick you up. Now."
"But-"
"Now, Pixel."
Pixel hesitates, eyes flickering around with worry as she finally stared up at Vox
"Do you trust me?"
"...yes. Yes, I trust you."
"Then do as I say. Please."
She can tell something's off, her father has never acted this way before
The girl throws her arms around him, burying her face in his chest
Vox wipes the tears from her eyes and gives her a reassuring smile, holding her screen in his hands
"I love you, okay?"
"I love you, too, dad..."
He presses another kiss to her forehead and squeezes her tight
He's so terrified of letting her go, but he knows that he has to, for her own good
"Go over to aunt Velvette's and ask her to call your mother. Tell her to meet me here as soon as she can and we'll come get you."
Pixel is extremely apprehensive, but obliges either way
As she trots off to Velvette's tower, Vox gets footage of the Hazbin Hotel from Valentino
Meanwhile, you receive Velvette's call and fly over to the Headquarters as fast as possible
Vox clings to you and squeezes you tight, cupping your cheeks in his hands and looking into your eyes
"Ask for an advance on the court date."
You swear you feel your soul leave your body when he says those words
You've been dreading this for so many years
"Vox, this- this can't be the only solution."
"She's in limbo, Y/N, and right now the good in her has the edge. Request sanctuary and ask Sera to move the date. Please."
With a heavy heart, you agree
He's right, if Alastor really is back, you need to get Pixel to safety
You hug Vox close, tucking your face in the crook of his neck and letting out a sob
You don't know if you're going to see him ever again, and that terrifies both of you to your very cores
"Don't cry, my love, don't cry."
"I love you, Vox."
"I know. I love you, too."
You share a last passionate kiss before departing, tears brimming both yours and his eyes as Velvette accompanies Pixel to say her goodbyes
Vox's farewell to his child is heartbreaking
He reassures her that he loves her and it's for her own good, even if he knows that deep down she'd never forgive him
You give Vox a last kiss before opening the portal to Heaven, letting the dimensions swallow up both of you, never to see Hell for years on end
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NGE arc 2
I'm really enjoying the show now! The first six episodes had their ups and downs but I feel like this stretch really sold me on it.
The biggest change is, of course, Asuka. She takes up a lot of screentime, but it feels justified. Retrospectively, you can see the "hole" in the show that she goes on to fill.
Asuka is everything Shinji and Rei are not - brash, overconfident, rude, energetic, etc. She's always messing with Shinji - trying to get his attention, criticizing him, trying to get a rise out of him - and it's not entirely clear to me whether that's because she feels a certain way about him, or because that's just how she is with another kid her age and he's the only one who really qualifies.
On the other hand, her relationship with Rei is much more straightforwardly a rivalry - she feels threatened by Rei's whole deal. It's also unclear to me whether it's one-sided or not. Rei is very stoic, and Asuka's introduction ended the little window we were getting into Rei's head in episode 6, which disappointed me a bit.
Misato feels like she's gotten her shit together a bit more now. She's a more competent guardian and she has intelligence guys watching Shinji's every move, which she should've done on day 1. With Asuka's introduction, the vibes between her and Shinji feel a lot less weird. Idk.
I really, really liked the lights out episode. Felt like really crisp storytelling, with a lot of very good character moments. Definitely a stand-out thus far. I also found the scene where Shinji almost kisses Asuka while she's asleep and then snaps out of it very striking.
We still don't really know exactly what the Second Impact was, though it's implied that someone (proto-NERV?) captured an angel embryo and then mishandled it somehow, which led to a much worse catastrophe than we've otherwise seen. Why were there only two angels, before a 15 year gap? Is that related to why the pilots are all 14 years old? How were the first two angels subdued? Was the angel embryo that NERV has on ice captured then, or now?
I'm also told that there's more to the whole "EVAs are alive" twist than I was giving it credit for, so let's speculate a bit. Are the EVAs enslaved angels? That seems off - we've seen the EVAs act "automatically" to protect human children, whereas the angels will just murder them. There was a throwaway line about angel DNA being similar to human DNA - maybe the EVAs are angel-human-cyborg hybrids, or something? The continuous references to "contamination" seem like a looming Chekhov's gun.
After Shinji told Rei his dad sucks, I had hoped that was a sign he wasn't as obsessed with his father's approval anymore, but no luck...
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for the character meme: dulcie or cam or pal or a character of ur choosing!!! hehe
!!!!! ty lem!! im gonna do my girl dulcie...
favorite thing about them: honestly just the way she's written- it never fails to make me emotional that she *is* explicitly written as being brave and strong, but tamsyn neatly sidesteps the "inspiration porn" ableist stereotype of writing a character as being brave/strong *because* they are sick. dulcie isn't brave or strong because of her illness. her strength and bravery are explicitly positioned, IMO, as being in response to surviving *ableism* and other people's condescension towards her and mistreatment of her, rather than surviving her illness itself, if that makes sense. her health is just a fact of her life, it's not moralized. which i really, really appreciate. it's a small shift, but it's very meaningful to me.
ALSO deeply special to me: her intentional and careful commitment to boundaries re: The Palamedes Of It All. a refreshing change of pace, as far as these books go vgjtjxdjt
least favorite thing about them: i mean. houser. :/
favorite line: three way tie between "truly, wonderful news for my haters," "i am sick of roses and horny for revenge," and "oops, there i go again, never doing what i'm told"
brOTP: gideon!!!!! i think it's a crying shame they've never met. i think they'd get along tremendously. the whole cytherea gideon thing was Horrid and Awful in so many ways, but it always Extra stings (in an adding-insult-to-injury sort of way) when i think about what it would have been like if gideon had REALLY met dulcinea, and not cyth. dulcie would've been a great friend for her, i think. they'd have been so good at making each other laugh
OTP: honestly these days it's cam? @ palamedes ily but get outta here gayboy it's yuri time now. plus i just love chewing on the concept of cam + comphet, and cam + subconscious internalized misogyny, and cam + gender, and cam + her relationships and interactions with other women. i think there's lots to explore there. camdulcie has a certain "when i was eight i didn't realize i had a crush on the new girl in my grade so i just wrote her a note that said 'get out of my school'" energy about it, To Me
nOTP: idk if i really have one for her, specifically? idk. ianthe or something, fuck it.
random headcanon: stoner. on all levels except physical she is taking fuckall huge bong rips. on the physical level though her lungs suck so i think she'd be a tincture girlie. she's got chronic pain she deserves it. am i projecting? you tell me
unpopular opinion: idk if this is an unpopular opinion exactly, but i always see people referring to thee rejected proposal as being something born primarily out of love/out of romantic intent? and i don't know if that's necessarily how i see it. it was CERTAINLY, and obviously, a factor. but at least from my interpretation of pal's monologue to cytherea at the end there, i get the sense that he had already accepted her boundaries in that regard, because he says he "understood that he was a child." and we also get camilla saying that his motivations in proposing were primarily a means-to-an-end way of getting her off the seventh and letting her die with dignity. iirc her exact words were like "so she could spend what time she had left with people who cared about her." like, don't get me wrong, i think pal is lying to himself if he says that being in love with dulcie wasn't PART of the motivation there. but i find it a lot more interesting in a worldbuilding and social commentary way to interpret the circumstances there as him offering, essentially, to be a hospice doctor at age 19, and marriage being the 'easiest' way to get her off the seventh/planet medical malpractice. there's an imperial misogyny ownership-through-marriage throughline there that's nauseating, as well as the implications re: disability and agency and autonomy, and i think that's all very interesting to explore. i think this view is supported in part by the paldulcie interaction in TUG, where she alludes to the idea that she was cognizant about the impact that bearing witness to death and loss up-close and personal like that changes a person, and that she didn't want to do that to pal and cam, especially given their age. i think it informa dulcie's character and grants her additional narrative agency to look at things from that angle, of her "no" being in reference to *both* the age gap AND her intentional choice to continue suffering on the seventh, rather than put two kids through being hospice caregivers and/or widowers at nineteen– no matter how many times and how sincerely they kept offering, no matter that she would've absolutely had a more peaceful and comfortable end-of-life HAD she accepted his proposal and gone to the sixth to die. i think it says a lot about her as a person, that choice. there's a quiet and meaningful responsibility to her as a person that i find fascinating. and her character is just sooooo firmly rooted in and informed by disability politics, on every level, and i feel like people don't engage with that aspect of her characterization enough!
song i associate with them: ooooh SO many, i have a whole playlist. but i think the biggest ones are
-the drama by kesha ("friday night, get too high, keep checking my pulse, am i dead yet?" / "in the next life i wanna come back, as a housecat as a housecat! i'd sleep and play in the sun, i'd be a fuckin' cute son of a gun!")
-avant gardener by courtney barnett (the whole song really, but especially the lines "the paramedic thinks i'm clever cause i play guitar, i think she's clever cause she stops people dyin'," and "i take a hit off an asthma puffer, i do it wrong, i was never good at smokin' bongs." i just think she'd love this song.)
-honorable mentions include stoned at the nail salon by lorde, life according to raechel by madison cunningham, rose-colored boy by paramore (@ palamedes, lmfao), picture me better by weyes blood, extraordinary machine by fiona apple, rubberband girl by kate bush, last words of a shooting star by mitski.
favorite picture of them: oh man well it obviously has to be my icon... art made for me by the lovely @franzias-cave !!!! based on the concept of "the woman is dying, please do her the decency of allowing her to look the part in fanart." my girl... she's a malign fairy, she's a hot-eyed wraith <3
ty lem this was so fun! i love my gworl :')
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Pecca i want you to know that your interpretation of Volo as an angsty teenager is groundbreaking. His course of action in pla makes so much more sense when you read him as, like, 16 having his first religious crisis
THANK YOU FOR UNDERSTANDING ME 😭
I feel like a really easy thing to forget is that we don't actually know how long the events of PLA go on for
We tend to think of Pokemon characters as locked in on one age I think instead of being actual people who live and grow. I've never really liked that bc it kinda feels unnatural to me. I wanna see these characters live their lives and not be trapped in a timeless bubble of "the narrative".
It's pretty ambiguous how long exactly you're out surveying and given the day/night cycle I don't think it would be ridiculous to say you could be at it for a year in game time before you actually fight Volo depending on if you take your time trying to complete the Pokedex or not.
So to me I think Volo was a 17ish year old teenager who got too lost in the sauce and as he got older his plans got bigger and his Pokemon got stronger and eventually he felt ready to take you and the world on.
I think the idea of a post-pla Volo is so fascinating to me because I want to be able to explore the impact of how something like that would affect such a young guy. He's not like Cyrus who was canonically 27 with his own established organization to help him, he was a younger guy with a dream that he could make the world better that had his own delusions of grandeur crushed at their highest point. The only people he had to fall back on were his Pokemon.
Idk I'm pro Volo learning and maturing somewhat in the years after that. I'm not saying he immediately realizes the error of his ways or anything, especially with his attitude, but I want to believe he could find peace eventually because at some point we all have to or die trying, you know?
Using context clues about how he feels the world is a bad place (and even if we wanna reach into Pokemas and analyze "use people before they use you") he's probably not had very good relationships with the world around him.
I feel like a lot of teenagers especially can relate to feeling like the world is suddenly a lot worse of a place than they thought it was. It's scary and frustrating and relationships with your peers get a lot more complicated. Wanting to put an end to it isn't an uncommon feeling, most of us just aren't given access to powerful Pokemon and the ability to fight god irl at that age.
But that's why the Pokemon world is better 🙏
#peccaspeaks#wow sorry for the volo rant#i have big volo feelings#thank you for the ask though!!!❤️🥺#this was fun#pokemon#pokemon legends of arceus#volo pokemon#pokemon volo#pla volo#pokemon wielder volo#asks
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a taste of poison
snarles x reader part 1 - if there's enough demand maybe ill make a part 2 lol idk i hate writing so it would probably take just as long as this one
a while after landing on this strange planet, finding yourself in the dark and haunting forest known as Subcon a spirit known as snatcher steals your soul and forces you to do his bidding unfortunately for you while working to complete one of snatcher's tasks you end up far deeper in the forest then you should have been and end up in someone else's hunting grounds
after searching for nearly two hours you find yourself running into a small clearing leaves rustling and twigs snapping underfoot as you ran towards the rare flower snatcher had asked you to gather for a certain potion he needed to make what kind of potion? you had no idea but what you did know is that snatcher would probably kill you if you came back empty handed
you should have been paying better attention to your surroundings
while running you weren't exactly paying attention to anything other then the flower leading to you tripping over a fallen tree and planting your face directly in the cold and wet soil of the forest which definitely woke you up but when you realized just how much noise you had made on the way here you could feel nothing but dread something probably heard you
no..
something definitely heard you
you quickly wipe the mud from your face and come to your knees scanning the tree line and tuning in your hearing as you slowly get up
but you see and hear...
nothing
nothing but the sound of wind howling between the cracks of broken trees
the coast is clear and you are alone
so you begin to stand and reproach the flower pulling it from the ground with the roots intact and stashing it somewhere safe for the journey back to snatcher's house but just as you pick it up the smell of something absolutely awful fills your nose its hard to stop yourself from puking and you probably would have if you weren't already so used to the constant smell of death that lays thick in Subcon's air...
but this wasn't the usual smell of old decaying bodies this smelled far more ripe where the hell was that smell even coming from?
"right behind you that's where~"
a small crack and snap can be heard in the treetops above
with the faint sound of hissing that transitioned into a shrill and wet sounding cackle that followed soon after
you run but you didn't get far before you are promptly pinned to the ground by something far larger then yourself with its claws digging into your shoulders causing fresh blood to trickle down the side of your back and onto the cold wet ground
and it was at this very moment that you realized
YOU BLEW IT YOU TOTALLY SCREWED YOURSELF!~
you feel the smooth and slimy skin of whatever creature had you pressed against the ground began to coil itself around you like a snake ready to suffocate its prey your mind and body had already started to go numb but before you could pass out you were quickly snapped out of it by a voice... and maybe also the claws still stuck in your shoulders like knives but mostly just the voice
"finally.. fresh meat its been days with not a single soul...
I was starting to worry that people had finally gotten smart and started to avoid this wrenched forest~"
"...now then.. how about we get started my lost little mouse~ it would be a real shame if I let fresh meat like you go to waste"
you struggle and struggle and struggle some more attempting to worm your way out of its firm grasp
but its no use
but if you were going to die you at least wanted to get a good look at whatever was about to kill you so you continued to struggle until you could get a good look at its face even if that meant completely exhausting yourself
you catch a glimpse of its soulless yellow eyes flickering
"oh how cute the prey thinks it can escape~? you keep making this easier for me I almost feel bad... maybe the hunger is finally starting to get to me or maybe its just that scent.... wait hold on that scent"
they lean in close to your face and just stare at you for what felt like an eternity before uncoiling you and towering above your sore body
"is... this some kind of cruel joke?"
they hissed in frustration before grabbing you by the leg and pulling you close to their face
"no this cant be the case... did his previous contractor kick the bucket already? its only been a week there's no way he's dead already"
they drool at the thought of eating the remains of snatchers previous victim even if there's no guarantee he was even dead...yet
"well well well~ ...might you be snatcher's newest pet? oh ...don't worry about trying to speak.. I have other ways of finding out~"
"my little mouse"
#no i will not fix grammar errors i don't feel like it#scream at me if you want part 2#reader doesn't say anything because I'm not sure how to do dialog lol#if you see any missing color i cant fix it :(#feeling kinda shy about posting this#i hate writing grrrrrrr#snarles x reader#yall asked for it#sewersnarles#thank you for reading my cringe#snarles writes shit
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In your soldier on au does branch ever think about signing up for the military? When he’s the age he can do it but this au got me thinking about how my older brother was in the military and how that influenced me to want to be in the military too but my family has a history with the military so idk if John Dory be in the military has influenced branch a little because they seem to be getting along.( sorry if doesn’t make sense but I just had some thoughts about it but this is a really interesting and cool au and I’m only 14 so I don’t really know how a 16 year old will think about this😅)
Oooooooohhhhh... okay, okay, okay I got this lol
This is entirely possible. Especially since John was 17 when he signed up and Branch is not that much younger now. I think he would probably consider it at some point, at the very least, although if John knew, he'd probably be like... now I know what Dickory was trying to do with his brother lol so it might be a theme lol.
I think Branch might consider it at some point; especially when John talks about the good things, the places he's been, the people he has met, the squad that became his family. And since Branch has a kind of disconnect from his brothers, he might think this is kind of a good idea. However, on the other hand, with John's new predicament and disability, Branch also gets a bit of a seat into what can - and even often does - happen when in that type of environment.
John lost his leg. And no matter how strong and capable he is or becomes, that is something he does have to struggle with because it is a huge, huge adjustment, especially at his age. So Branch could also very well be faced with what if John hadn't survived? Branch would have never have met him. What if Branch did the join the military and didn't survive?
In the end, he might consider even have a phase of daydreaming about it for a bit. But at the end of the day, he won't. He ends up gaining that family and relationships that he was longing for, mostly when he is in Hawaii with John (and by proxy, Bruce). Rosiepuff might even sell her house and end up moving them there because of it.
Branch gets friends and close relationships. Not just with John, but with other people too. Tresillo and the rest of John's squad actually get close with Branch too. He ends up having a better relationship - although a little awkward - with Bruce. He has some friendship/relationship with his nephews and possibly even Clampers and Hickory as well. Eventually Poppy will probably make an appearance as well and well, we know I ship Branch and Poppy.
Branch having that moment of wanting the military, part of it is because he was unfulfilled in his life and relationships and in the beginning, before things get better, he sees the good in John's life but he doesn't quite realize that good came out of some really painful loneliness that he didn't have the choice to find in his own family. Branch and John's loneliness are not exactly the same but very, very similar, even though their circumstances are a bit different.
Military backgrounds definitely influence a family, whether or not the family tries to. One of my high school friends, despite her small stature, was determined to get in because that was in her family. It wasn't that her parents told her she had to or even expected her to, but it was something she really wanted and she did. I don't know if she is still here or not, but I know she got in.
And don't worry, your ask made total sense. I'm sorry I went a bit above and beyond.
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Leo being put into a situation where there is absolutely no fighting, just verbal manipulation and perception games, would be amazing to witness. We see a lot in the series how good he is at subterfuge and how he uses his perception to manipulate to great effect, so it’d be so cool to really see it put to the test even more.
Manipulation is one of the most effective tactical strategies of all time, so just imagine Leo putting this skillset of his to the full test. Imagine the boys slowly get up to busting bigger and more powerful criminals, including those with networks of crime under their belt, and a simple fight isn’t enough to take them down. For criminals like this, Leo’s skills in subterfuge would be deadly.
#rottmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#rottmnt leo#rottmnt headcanons#me back to talking about Leo’s incredibly high affinity for subterfuge#genuinely think it’s one of if not his best and most honed skill#AND IT’S A VITAL NINJA SKILL#above fighting battle tactics and the like#it’s verbal blindspots#Sun Tzu’s The Art of War literally states that “the greatest victory is won without battle’’#and idk I think Leo would be so good at this and we see him do it in the show quite a bit but not to the amount I yearn for#but yeah like just think Leo getting sent in and his bros standing guard#of course he wouldn’t be the ONLY one involved but 100% he’d be the main player#man idk I just really really love when their specific skill sets that ARENT the fighting ones are used it’s so interesting to me#like we already know Leo can easily take in a whole room’s worth of people and know exactly how to avoid them all#we know he can manipulate manipulators into his schemes#we know he’s good at improv which is essential to the games of speech high end criminals like to play#it would be SO INTERESTING#OKAY HEAR ME OUT-#he’s asked by Big Mama to join her at a criminal ball of sorts#she needs to regain power and he needs to take down big name criminals#thus a deal#no but really it’s so cool seeing Leo specifically do his best tactics through thinking like his enemy and predicting how they’d act
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what do you think mulder thinks of diana fowley after biogenesis through amor fati? i don't think we really see anything on screen/in text (though i think it says a lot that he didn't have much of a reaction when scully came to his apartment & instead focuses on scully & their relationship lol)
yeah there’s basically NOTHING in the text but tbh i think finding out for certain that she was working with CSM really kindaaaa snapped him out of some things…mulder doesn’t give a fuck what people do to him, obviously, but it’s a different thing entirely to find out that your ex is involved in something like that. like there are MILES from “my partner makes me feel like shit and is maybe pretty abusive” and “my partner is like 3rd on the call list of a eugenics group that treats women like test subjects”
like, scully was right, diana was monitoring MUFON women and collecting data on them. she was heading up the tests on cassandra. she probably knew the truth about samantha the whole time. just nasty nasty shit.
she’s the villain in the amor fati dream: the dismissive symbol of abandonment that offers another path.
one of the most interesting scenes of diana’s character to me, is in the sixth extinction, when she comes to see mulder in the hospital. and she knows what the effects of the artifact are, that he can hear what she’s thinking. that, therefore, he knows who she works for and what she’s doing. (imagine your ex-husband/wannabe boyfriend/obsession finds out you’re lying to him because he can read your mind….shit is crazy!)
and she tells him that she knows he knows. but that he also knows that she loves him.
and she does love him. there’s no reason to lie about that then, she knows he would be able to tell.
scully knows it without hearing it, that’s how she gets diana to save mulder’s life, ultimately. she comes to her and begs. tells her to please just think of him, who he is, who he was when she met him, who he is now. in the end, because of scully weaponizing how diana feels, diana can’t go through with it. she gives her life to help him.
diana seems to be one of those influences on mulder that’s only really all that significant when she’s close by. it’s like how all the tension in the beginning builds up to him getting in her car when she tells him to, leaving scully, when diana is there instructing him.
i think being able to know who she truly was and her true intentions and allegiances, prior to her death, really goes a long way in the way he responds to losing her.
don’t get me wrong, i think he’s upset. you can kind of see the shock cross his face when scully tells him. but he stays focused on his goal, which is to express to scully how important she is to him, in the wake of how discarded diana always made her feel.
mulder loved diana and grieves that she was killed, he doesn’t have it in him not to, but mostly he…wanted something from her, right? he wanted that approval and “affection” and to please her. he wanted her to believe him. the first thing that she says to disarm him (in the end) when she can tell he’s uneasy, is, “hey. i’m on your side.”
learning who she really is, it’s easier not to crave her approval so badly.
(this is the crux of amor fati’s “last temptation.” it’s diana saying: you’re childish. you are going to fail. your path is not your own. “you have to let go, fox.” and it’s scully countering: we need you. this is who you are.)
(it’s why he responds in the end by telling scully that it’s her that’s the voice of truth.)
and then in death, diana’s not…there for him to want anything from!! so it’s like, again, yeah he obviously feels the loss, this was someone who meant a lot to him for over a decade. but also it’s likeeeeee freeing in a way? it makes things simpler in a way? (he’s able to communicate all of that to scully instantly after hearing diana is gone, after over a year of the tension hanging around it)
if you asked him about diana now, or even a year later, i think he’d be like…damn that’s crazy! 😭😭 mulder doesn’t have an awful lot of object permanence you guys sjdjsjfj
when scully comes to tell mulder that diana was killed, and he says to her, “you were my friend, and you told me the truth,” the language matters so much. that’s what scully called diana, “i know she was your friend,” and he turns it back onto her. you were my friend. you told me the truth.
in my opinion, it’s not that he doesn’t love and grieve diana, but that there’s a freedom in knowing the truth. knowing who someone is, and their intentions. knowing who has your best interest at heart. knowing where you stand in the world, what you want to do.
that’s really what allows for the openness and lightness of s7, in the wake of diana’s absence. mulder’s always seeking, always learning.
#in a lot of ways diana knows mulder sooo well#like her mannerisms and every little word and phrase are so carefully chosen#like that moment in ‘the end’ when she says she’s on his side and takes his hand#her VERY first line on the show is telling a room full of people that she thinks mulder is right. that she believes him.#something she continues to enforce when she needs to#i was just looking at ‘the beginning’ and the way that when he kinda doesn’t trust her after she took over the x-files#and they find her outside#she says ‘fox. i’m going to get out of the car. i’m alone. alright?’#like she communicates with him in a way where like….if she had good intentions it would be exactly how to help/calm him#but because she DOESNT it’s EXACTLY how to have him eating out of the palm of her hand#very interesting character very vile woman#anyway idk i think there’s something very ‘good for him!’ esque about how quickly he moves on from her 💀#i think he’s able to for all the reasons i cited here about knowing what she’s doing and who she is#but mulder is sooooo easily wrapped up in trying to please someone or trying to help someone and getting in a shit situation#and that controls so much of their lives for so long#and i was trying to think about it and i feel like diana’s death kinda is the last time that he’s so trapped in that!#he still does it on a smaller extent ofc but it’s less about the person more the situation after diana if i recall#asks#amor fati#diana
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priest: i don't, ah, quite know what to say to you. if you are in such terrible danger, why are you taking it all so calmly?
constantine: hmh! i dunno, father. i had a bloke beaten to a pulp earlier this evening. that sound calm to you?
priest: you did what...?
constantine: i must've been off me bleedin' rocker. i've never done anything like it before in me life, y'know?
constantine: but there's header gets his guts blown out, and george is stickin' his head in the noose, and helen gets ... jesus, then friggin' sarah bites me head off — ! everything's coming to bits in me hands and it's so easy to just see red and now, shit, they could've killed the tosser for all i know!
and now i'm just like the bastards i've hated all me life! kill him! fire him! close them down! piss all over him! screw you, i can do whatever i want! i so much as blink and you're dead, pal! i'm in charge!!
...
constantine: 'scuse me, father. i'm always like this when i don't get me own way.
— hellblazer #81, "rake at the gates of hell pt. 4"
babygirl you are just....so, sooooo offputting. (and grieving, and guilty, and terrified, but yeah: offputting.)
anyway, it's issues like this one that remind me why i kind of hesitate over some of the retcons in the recent spurrier runs, like the one with him now having opened dream's pouch of sand and stolen some before they even met. because like, it's easy enough to look at john constantine now — with 70 years of worst possible choices and unresolved trauma crystallizing underneath his skin to cover up all the soft, hopeful bits where he's used to getting hit — and assign him arbiter of ill intentions, magus of wasted potential, saint of shit choices, but man . . . he was new to this, once. he was still new to this 80 issues in.
80 issues in, and he's not used to losing friends yet; he even has time enough between catastrophes to grieve each individual one. still has enough left to live for at this stage to necessitate running and hiding, instead of bodily throwing himself at the problem like he learns to later, or sitting apathetically by to do nothing except smoke and watch the world fall apart when he finally gives up. fuck, he still apologizes.
and you're telling me this guy, this soppy wet cat motherfucker hiding from the devil in a church basement, so guilty over not knowing what happened to the guy that he paid people (paid chas, so chas could pay people) to attack that the bottle he's holding in this scene isn't even his second or third........this guy's past, more innocent self lied right to the face of DREAM OF THE ENDLESS and got away with it?
hm. i just don't know about all that.
#also this is where my headcanons tag is from <3#( ooc. ) OUT OF CIGS.#( visage. ) AND I'M A BASTARD.#( character study. ) A WALKING PLAGUE OF A MAN.#sometimes i just think that. people really like to reduce constantine down to one or two things#and somehow. after 250 issues of putting his life on the line bc he could never really make himself look away from people suffering#the soft sullen guilty person who wants so fucking desperately to be a better man? is never one of those two things#idk man. i think about this issue all the time#if i put these pages side-by-side with his grief in hellblazer 2? with his grief in hellblazer 213? 215? during the empathy virus arc?#it becomes CRYSTAL clear that the guy we know at the end of hellblazer isn't someone the guy who sat vigil for gary lester would recognize#in fact i think he's someone that hellblazer 81 constantine would fucking Hate#ANYway yeah. i don't think he lied to dream about the pouch. i don't think he ever got it open. i don't think that's canon for me#i want him to fucking Earn his asshole nature. the hard way. by making All The Wrong Choices that it took to get him there#he paved that road with good intentions himself but. he also used to remember the ones he started with#idk if i'm making sense but i have had this panel open on my laptop for Two Months now#bc i can never stop thinking about how fucking crushed he is here to realize that he might be exactly as bad a man as sarah said he was#and how little it will surprise him later on to learn that he is Easily capable of So Much Fuckin Worse#and with that your honor the defense rests. our evidence? just. just Look at this fuckin guy#scopophobia /#scopophobia#eye contact /#eye contact tw
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FINALLY have wrestled my brain into sitting down and watching Good Omens and it is, in fact, very good!! Incredibly good!! Absolutely in love with it ♥️♥️♥️
It does, however, hurt terribly
#as a queer with hella religious trauma fucking OW 😭😭😭#Aziraphale is exactly who I used to be#and Crowly is so much like who I am now#'I only ever asked questions' yeah me too 😭#i really thought i'd kinda made peace with my religious trauma but it turns out i very much have not 🙃🙃🙃🙃#i'm like 2 eps into season 2 currently but i do know generally what happens and I DO know how it ends#and it breaks my fucking heart bc I'm going to be so upset with Aziraphale but I'm gonna understand him better than I want to#bc fuck if I didn't think I could fix heaven once#i really hope that when that line of thinking comes crashing down around him spectacularly#it doesn't do so in a way that kills any hope and makes him act apathetic as a defense mechanism to pretend it doesn't hurt#bc Crowley and I are already here and I want Aziraphale to avoid that#and it sucks and Aziraphale is too good to end up like this I want him to be ok 🥺#Crowley was too good to end up like this too but he's already here so I just hope he can heal better than I apparently haven't#idk I'm in love with this show and these middle-aged gay men but I'm also incredibly fucking triggered lmao#like ow mr gaiman good job but also kinda fuck you but also please I'm trusting you to give this a good end
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the funniest part about spin off shows based on cartoons from when the target audience were children is seeing the reaction of the adults who haven’t grown up yet get mad at it over the most insane reasons
#fionna and cake#idk man the show ended exactly how it started idk why theres so much UGH IM DISAPPOINTED in the tags#it was all there right in front of you#good thing i learned the art of ‘knowing exactly what kind of show it’s trying to be’ and avoid crybaby disappointments#i dont consider the narrative fluff i wish to see as That important#and just because you dont understand or like a choice doesn’t mean its a Bad one#txt
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theOrEticalLy . if I opened commissions at some point. would there be. a smackerel of interest . ??
#i have never opened them bc it’s intimidating and I don’t know how to price things!!#but mostly bc i work full time w a good salary so I don’t really need side things to make money#like it feels selfish to suggest that people should pay me to make fanart?? When#a) I already do that for free bc i enjoy it lol#and b) there are so many creators out there who are struggling to make ends meet#and I am privileged enough to generally not have to worry about that#this would be just like extra spending money to fund my scented candle habit DHDJDN#and the clothes I just bought while trying to Discover My Vibe and Finally Be Myself (at age 28 lol)#also tbh it would likely be reinvested in other commissions bc I buy commissions fairly often lol#anyway. idk the idea of commissions always sounded cool but also guilt inducing and scary#it feels weird and silly bc it would make me have to take my art seriously if that makes sense??#like me saying ‘I think I’m good enough at art that people would buy it from me.’ that feels so bold and like. arrogant or something dhjsjd#coming from me I mean. just a silly little guy who still struggles to draw human limbs properly#ok I’m thinking about how I’d have to make a commission sheet and put a dollar sign on my art and I’m aaaaaaa#and I’d have to execute exactly what people want and what if I can’t!!!#omg ok maybe noT help lol#well im not committing to anything rn im simply. asking a question while the dash is asleep and then running off to bed seeya#i think part of me always wanted to try commissions to see if I could be a Real Artist about it ??#and potentially end up with like. Portfolio pieces ??#why I would need an art portfolio I don’t know. I am an editor. What do I think I will be doing here#ppl left comments on my animatic that have been giving me crazy what if thoughts. sit down#don’t look at me#ohhh swirly brain thoughts I need to sleep
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Ok so like. Film adaptations of books are not universally bad things on principle. I’m definitely not saying that it’s impossible to produce a good one. But at the same time, film and the written word are different mediums that aren’t necessarily suited to telling stories in the same way.
For example, in a book, especially a highly character driven one, you get to directly see and read a lot of a character’s thoughts. And this has a huge impact on your experience of the story. And sure, you can convey this in a somewhat similar way with a voice over in a film adaptation, but depending on the scene being adapted, this doesn’t always work great or feel natural.
And that’s not a bad thing. It just means that it doesn’t translate to film well because film is a different medium that tells stories in a different way. And there certainly are books that translate well to film. But to be honest? A lot don’t. Especially not in a way that even comes close to touching the original that it is based off of. And that’s fine. Plenty of amazing movies and TV shows wouldn’t translate well into books and most people wouldn’t really want or expect them to.
So no. I really don’t think that “achieving” a film adaptation should be seen as a goal the way it seems to be for a lot of books and I think that seeing this as a goal is often doing a huge disservice to the original work. I think that books that are well served by film adaptations are the exception, not the rule, and that most of the drive to produce film adaptations of popular books is driven by the urge to squeeze every last possible bit of profit out of every single creative idea ever rather than like. I don’t know. Actual appreciation for the source material and a genuine wish to understand it in a different light.
#I am not entirely sure where this came from but thank you for coming to my ted talk I guess???#ok no I know exactly where this came from#shadow and bone netflix 🙄🙄🙄#I’m tempted to make another post applying it specifically to sab netflix but idk#book adaptation#film adaptations#this is also why I don’t really want a secret Shanghai adaptation#it might work for tvd if they did a really good job#but I don’t think it would really work for flf because of how internal a lot of stuff is with some of the characters#like I’m sure a passable adaptation would be hypothetically possible#and sure. maybe it would get more people to enjoy the story#but I just really don’t think film would be an effective way to convey a lot of flf without losing really important parts of it#especially if you look at what makes your perception of Rosalind change from tvd to flf#I could make a whole separate post about this honestly#also from what I have observed film adaptations tend to lose nuance and exacerbate issues present in the books they’re based on#and while I don’t really think Orion fits the promiscuous bi stereotype exactly#I think a film adaptation would likely end up losing the nuance that makes him not fit it#ok I could probably talk about this forever but I am going to have impulse control and stop now
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#i have no idea how to respond to the whole qsmp situation right now#i mean. i dont watch it or interact with qsmp ITSELF#only the fans around it#I have made fanart for it but not really because i have any particular attachment to specific characters but just because#its a very good springboard for character design and inspiration#Im very involved with the fanbase though as the QSMPnews discord is one of my main discords#and I mainly use the fandom space as a way of practicing/getting into foreign languages#although i dont watch qsmp it still has impacted my life massively in the last year#this clusterfuck of project management is difficult to unravel and know what to do with#and its difficult to know exactly where to turn your attention#or who to blame#since theres so many levels of miscommunication that hasnt been helped by the sharing of it online#i think. even if QSMP doesn't survive#it would be ludicrous to state it as an inherently harmful server#since there has been an evident change in the minecraft gaming space because of it in multiculturalism.#heck IM direct proof of that as someone who does not reguarly engage with the server itself via streams#the fact that as a result of a 21 year old kid deciding to start a sever I can end up with a group of spanish speakers trying to explain#various concepts to me in my language while i respond in theirs is. insane#so do i think that the qsmp will survive?#um. look i dont see how it can.#I've never thought that it could#but i dont think that im going to demonise fans or avoid content relating to it#considering how integral the fanspaces around it are to me and my personal quest for language proficiency#however I will attempt to keep qsmp posts on my french/spanish blogs#well that was. long-winded#idk this is a very self-centred look into the qsmp and this whole situation#obviously I hope that the staff get paid but. I really have no idea where Quackity Studios might get that money from or how the#server should either end or continue
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